


Over the Counter

by nicnac363



Category: Miraculous Ladybug
Genre: Aged-Up Character(s), Alternate Universe - Still Have Powers, F/M, Fluff and Smut, Musical References, Psychological Drama, Romantic Comedy, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-12-08
Updated: 2020-01-27
Packaged: 2021-02-26 07:02:41
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 55,261
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21719626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nicnac363/pseuds/nicnac363
Summary: Marinette has no idea what to expect when she agrees to cater a dinner for a mysterious client. Her world starts to turn upside down when the door is opened by Adrien Graham de Vanily: a handsome millionaire with eccentric fashion sense. Can their budding relationship withstand the forces of alter egos, an overly controlling father, and a game of Truth or Drink? Very loosely based on Under the Table by Stephanie Evanovich.
Relationships: Adrien Agreste | Chat Noir/Marinette Dupain-Cheng | Ladybug, Alya Césaire/Nino Lahiffe, Ivan Bruel/Mylène Haprèle, Juleka Couffaine/Rose Lavillant
Comments: 47
Kudos: 110





	1. The Client

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: Miraculous Ladybug/Miraculous: Tales of Ladybug and Chat Noir was created by Thomas Astruc and Zagtoons. Even though I have many issues with the direction the show has been taking, with the exception of certain episodes (#Oblivio), I want to give credit where credit is due. This story is also loosely based on Under the Table by Stephanie Evanovich, which is a fairly enjoyable "trashy romance novel," though also not exactly what I wanted (hence my urge to re-write it). 
> 
> Links are visual/musical references that I used while writing, not ads.

It was too gorgeous a day to die, or so Marinette hoped as she emerged from the Paris Métro and seamlessly merged with the fast-paced flow of pedestrian sidewalk traffic. She mentally ticked through her pre-appointment checklist one more time:

_(1) Leave Alya client’s contact info and address: Check_

_(2) Share location with Alya on phone: Check_

_(3) Phone parents to tell them she loved them: Check_

_(4) Put unexpired pepper spray into purse: Double check_

She blew out a long sigh. She was having a hard time remembering why she’d accepted this particular side hustle given her paranoia.

 _Nothing bad has ever happened to me on one of these jobs,_ she reassured herself as she glanced at Google Maps to make sure she was still walking in the right direction. _One of my favorite customers vouched for this guy. Everything is going to go great._

Marinette didn’t usually have to bolster herself this much before meeting a client, but this engagement was a bit unconventional. She had only been catering small-scale private events for a few months, but usually the hosts liked to meet with her at least once in person for a brief interview and discussion of the menu. Her services were advertised primarily by word of mouth, so while she’d never been asked to undergo an in-depth background check, at least one face-to-face meeting to ensure she met expectations seemed more than reasonable.

This particular client had called her two weeks ago to request a five-course Creole-themed dinner for six this evening. He left everything up to her, stating that there would be no dietary restrictions. His only request had been that she send him an e-mail containing the menu and complete list of necessary ingredients three days prior to the event so he had time to acquire everything. No face-to-face meeting required. Maybe she had accepted the odd circumstances because she happened to know a five-star Martiniquan chef to mooch recipes from.

Marinette turned down another side street filled with high-end apartment buildings. _And if he does murder me and serve me for this fancy dinner, at least it will make an interesting story for Alya’s column. If I’m going to die, my best friend should profit from the tragedy._

Marinette’s morbid train of thought was finally derailed as she arrived in front of her destination. Turned out, her client lived in one of the more modest buildings on the block, which wasn’t saying much. It was still as grand looking to her as the Palace of Versailles.

She took another deep breath, [smoothed her white button up shirt, checked her black dress pants for lint and signs of subway debris](https://res.cloudinary.com/everlane/image/upload/c_fill,dpr_1.0,f_auto,h_1200,q_auto,w_1200/v1/i/653e4e6f_5ff5.jpg), and walked up to the waiting doorman with her shoulders squared.

He gave a slight bow as she approached before holding the door open for her, “Good afternoon, Madame.”

She tripped as she stepped over the threshold but recovered quickly. “Thank you,” she replied, fighting the flush that threatened to spread across her cheeks at her clumsiness.

The lobby had a modestly patterned marble floor and there was a grand chandelier hanging from the center of the cream-colored ceiling. Marinette carefully walked over to the security desk, willing her body to flow with the same grace she had when she was fighting Akuma.

“Good afternoon, Madame,” the guard issued the same polite greeting as the doorman. “How may I help you?”

“I’m here for Adrien Graham de Vanily,” Marinette replied, speaking with more confidence than she’d initially felt now that she was channeling her inner superhero. “My name is Marinette Dupain-Cheng and I’m catering an event for him this evening.”

“Ah, yes,” the security guard scanned the clipboard in front of him and tapped her name when he found it about halfway down the front page. “I’ll just need to see some form of identification before I can let you past.”

Marinette opened the pink clutch she carried with her everywhere and pulled out her wallet. She was satisfied to see that her hand remained steady as she slid her ID card across the desk towards him.

He held her card at eye level, looking back and forth between her face and the photo. Seemingly satisfied, he gave a curt nod and handed the ID back to her.

“Right this way, Madame Dupain-Cheng,” he said leading her towards the elevator.

Though the lift’s exterior was old-fashioned (a bronze sliding gate was closed across the outside) the guard had to scan a badge clipped to his waistband to open the inner door. As soon as Marinette was inside, he pushed the button for the penthouse and stepped back to let the gate close. “Have a good evening, Madame,” he gave a slight bow before turning to head back towards his desk.

As soon as the inner door slid shut, Marinette took another deep breath. _Well that’s two more people who can attest to my last whereabouts._ She winced, _Though perhaps counting on employees of the murderer to provide honest testimony is naïve of me._

“Marinette,” came a soft whisper from her purse. “Your anxiety is so tangible it’s seeping into my cookies and making them taste bad.”

Marinette couldn’t help but giggle. She popped open her clutch and stuck her tongue out at the large blue eye that sparkled with laughter back up at her. “Thanks, Tikki. You always know just what to say to break me out of a spiral.” She winked before snapping the bag shut as the elevator door slid open, just in case someone was waiting for her.

She exited the elevator and stepped into a miniature version of the downstairs lobby, security guard replaced by a round table holding up a full-bodied bouquet of colorful flowers and a narrow plush scarlet carpet which lead to an exquisite pair of double doors carved from rich brown wood. The door had a central circle of windows filled with a mosaic of blue and green stained glass that caused tinted light to dance around the entryway. 

Marinette didn't restrain her impulse to caress a large peony as she passed the vase of flowers and was delighted to feel the soft delicate silk of real petals. She took one more moment to ensure her hair was still tied up in a neat bun before approaching the door. There didn’t seem to be a bell, so she gave three quick raps on the sturdy wood as she admired the kaleidoscope of stained glass up close.

Before her hand was all the way back at her side, the entrance was gently pulled open.

“The security guard told me you were on your way up,” a man’s voice said apologetically. “I meant to be outside to greet you, but my jacket did not feel the need to cooperate.”

Marinette tried to compose her face as she took in the owner of the voice. He looked to be about her age and was a head taller than her with a shaggy mop of dirty blonde hair. With his chiseled jawline, smooth skin, and emerald eyes, he would have been at home at any of the runway shows she’d worked at. However, he was sporting one of the most atrociously patterned fencer’s uniforms she’d had the horror of laying her eyes on. The pants were a loud plaid, composed of black and neon green stripes, and the body of said jacket was embroidered in green and black paisley complete with matching neon green sleeves.

Her expression must have betrayed her shock because the young man’s cheeks turned a delicate shade of pink and he placed his right hand on the nape of his neck. “I’m about to head out to a lesson,” he said sheepishly by way of explanation. “My grandfather had a fondness for bold uniforms, and I get my taste from him,” he added quickly.

Marinette stifled a giggle. His embarrassment swiftly swept any thoughts of being murdered from her mind. This guy didn’t seem like he could kill a gnat let alone a fellow human being.

“Right,” she managed to get out without breaking into hysterics, “No need to explain.” She motioned towards her own outfit, “I was just thinking that my work attire is not at all in keeping with the dress code.”

He let out a laugh and the smile he shot her lit up her abdomen as well as his face.

“I’m Adrien,” he said, offering her his hand.

She took it and felt lightning wend its way up her arm at his touch. “M-marinette,” she replied shakily. Now it was her turn to blush.

He didn’t seem to notice her stutter as he released her hand and took a step back to let her into his apartment. She took a quick sweep of her surroundings, noting the outward facing floor-to-ceiling windows and grand piano tucked into one corner of the modestly furnished living room.

“Do you have a coat I can take?” Adrien asked politely as he shut the door.

“Oh no,” Marinette waved him off. “Just my bag of secret supplies,” she gestured to the purse at her side.

He raised an eyebrow at her. “Barely looks big enough for a wallet,” he said eyeing it skeptically.

She laughed, “I’m a magician when it comes to space utilization.”

He gave her another one of those mind-melting smiles and shrugged, “If you say so.” He gestured towards a pair of white wooden double doors to their right, which were filled with similar blue and green glass mosaics as the front door. “That way to the kitchen.”

Marinette followed behind him, deliberately averting her gaze from his plaid breech-covered backside. She didn’t need to wait long for a suitable distraction. Her breath caught as soon as he pulled the doors open for her. “This is the most beautiful kitchen I’ve ever seen!” she gasped taking in the white marble countertops, sparkling stainless steel appliances, and porcelain farmhouse sink.

He smiled shyly at her, clearly pleased by her reaction. “I love cooking,” he explained. “I spent a lot of time in the kitchen with my grandmother so it’s where I feel most at home. The majority of my renovation budget went into this room.”

Marinette brushed her fingertips across the center island as she walked towards the eight-burner stove. There were floor-to-ceiling windows in this room as well and she could see another pair of double doors leading to a small balcony with a table and chairs overlooking the city street below. The natural light gave the room a welcoming glow.

“I asked you to come early because I figured you would want time to acquaint yourself with the kitchen,” Adrien said as she opened the refrigerator to find all of the produce, dairy, and meats she had requested he supply for the dinner menu.

“Just out of curiosity,” she asked, shutting the door to face him. “If you love cooking so much, why hire me?”

He rubbed nervously at the nape of his neck once more. Marinette found the tic endearing, and not just because it reminded her of another cute blonde boy she worked with.

“This is more of a business meeting than a dinner,” Adrien explained. “My father insisted that if I didn’t want to come to his manor or reserve space at a restaurant, then I would need to hire someone to service the meal. My job is to network, not ‘sweat under a stove hood,’” he made air quotes around the latter half of his last sentence.

“Well,” Marinette said smiling, “I can’t say I’m not grateful for the chance to work in such a gorgeous space.” _And for such a gorgeous man,_ she did not add aloud.

He beamed at her again before unhooking a keychain from the wall next to the kitchen doors. “As I mentioned,” he said holding them towards her. “I’m heading out to a fencing lesson. I should be home around 1700; plenty of time to help with any last-minute preparations and to discuss the timing of the service. In the interim, I wanted to give you the spare key, in case you have to go out for anything.”

Her eyes widened. “You’re leaving me: a complete stranger. Alone. In your apartment. With a spare key?!”

Adrien’s gaze shone with mirth, “What? Are you going to rob me?”

She rolled her eyes, reached for the proffered key, and slid it into her back pocket. “Even as good as I am, I don’t think the piano will fit in my handbag.” 

His laughter was addicting. “See? Nothing to worry about then.” His gaze swept the kitchen before returning to her. “Anything else you need before I head out?”

Marinette gave a quick shake of her head.

“Great!” He gave her a sweeping bow, instantly reminding her a second time of a certain black cat. “Then I leave it to you, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

She gave him an awkward curtsy in return, “Your dinner is in good hands, Mister Graham de Vanily.” Marinette was taken aback by how excited he seemed at her playing along with his faux grand gesture.

He began to make his way out but smoothly turned back towards her. “Oh! The dining room is through that door,” he gestured towards the far end of the kitchen. “Feel free to adjust the place settings as you see fit.” He then waved towards the rest of the apartment, “And, make yourself at home.”

With that he was gone, and Marinette was left gawking after the strange, charming man.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I started this story for NaNoWriMo, so the majority is just in the editing stages; therefore, my plan is to post a new chapter every Sunday. 
> 
> Thank you for reading! As always kudos and comments are always appreciated :)


	2. The Dinner

As soon as Marinette was sure she had the apartment to herself, she opened her bag to let Tikki fly free.

“Wow, Marinette!” the kwami gushed as she darted around the kitchen. “You really lucked out with this job!”

“Right?!” the girl exclaimed as she unrolled the apron she had slipped out of her bag once Tikki had vacated the small space. Marinette made the apron when she decided to add “Private Catering” to her long list of small business endeavors. It was pink with black and pink-spotted trim and embroidered with the words, "Where there’s a whisk there’s a way," with said utensil stitched beneath the pun for embellishment.

Once the protective covering was on, she sent Alya a quick text to let her know that Adrien was not a serial killer before promptly turning her phone on “Do Not Disturb” mode. She gave the kitchen a quick scrub with some cleaning supplies she found under the kitchen sink. Everything already looked spotless, but she figured it would be best not to deviate from her usual regimen. That task complete, she washed her hands and began prep work: cleaning and cutting the vegetables, deveining the shrimp, filleting the fish, extracting the meat from the crab, slicing the andouille sausage, setting some stock to boil, and mixing the batter for the beignets.

As soon as the prep work was complete, she mixed and formed the miniature crab cakes and shrimp cups that would be set out as appetizers and placed them in the fridge. They would take 10-15 minutes to cook, so they could sit at the ready until a few minutes before the guests were to arrive. She decided she could also toss the second course salad now, whip up the dressing, and store them separately to decrease her workload for later as well. Everything else would need to be compiled and cooked closer to the start of or during the dinner.

Despite all that, in addition to the self-guided orientation to the kitchen, she had another hour to while away before Adrien returned from his lesson. She decided she would take him up on his offer and help herself to the rest of his apartment.

Marinette hung her apron on the same hook from which Adrien had removed the spare key and wandered into the dining room, Tikki drifting after her.

Upon entering, she noted that “floor-to-ceiling windows” seemed to be a common theme in the apartment. The long wooden table in the center of the room was covered by a clean cream tablecloth and set with brightly polished silverware. Stark black napkins were expertly folded into flowers which bloomed from the center of each place setting. There were silver candelabra evenly spaced down the middle of the table as well. On a sideboard near the kitchen door stood an empty glass decanter, a silver bucket that could be filled with ice for chilling white wine or champagne, and an enameled pot containing the most beautiful purple-blue orchid Marinette had ever seen.

“I wonder if he set everything up himself,” she murmured absently as she trailed her fingertips along the edge of the table. Tikki hummed in appreciation as she tenderly nuzzled the inside of one of the mesmerizing flowers.

The pair soon made their way out into the living room where Marinette was delighted to find a vintage phonograph in the corner opposite the piano. It had been modified so that, with the flip of a single switch, it could play music through the antique horn or through a speaker system that she could now see snaked its way throughout the entire condo.

The marble floor was partially covered by a rug patterned with overlapping circles in various shades of blue and green that matched the stained-glass windows of the front entrance and kitchen doors. The cream leather sofa facing the windows looked inviting and sleek, especially in combination with the clear glass coffee table where another orchid was perched. There were more potted plants spaced around the edges of the room, including a lovely ficus. Marinette couldn’t stop herself from running her fingers along the spiraling trunk as she passed.

When she got to the piano, she pressed down on the last key and beamed at the rich sound that filled the space. She had never learned to play an instrument and wondered what it would be like to watch Adrien’s lengthy fingers move nimbly over the keys. The thought made her blush instantly as it [brought to mind other things his fingers might caress](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=NdbP6cSFJXs). _Bad, Marinette,_ she chastised her brain. _Out of the gutter, now!_

She quickly moved away from the piano and down the hallway opposite the door to the dining room. On this side of the apartment, she peeked into each room she passed without entering. Even though Adrien had said to make herself at home, this area of the residence felt too private to wander unsupervised.

The room on the left housed what appeared to be a guest bedroom with an adjacent bath. The room at the end was clearly the master suite. Marinette spied a walk-in closet and a jacuzzi tub in the master bath and sighed longingly. The last room on the right looked like an office. It was the only room in the apartment without floor-to-ceiling windows. Instead it contained floor-to-ceiling bookshelves covering all four walls and even had a ladder hanging from a track that went around the entire room a la “Beauty and the Beast.” Despite her reservations, she almost entered the room to peruse the shelves but managed to resist the urge. _If I do a good job tonight, Adrien might hire me again. I can ask to check-out his library then._ She had also observed a stunning collection of artworks peppered throughout the apartment and made a mental note to examine the pieces more closely if invited back.

Marinette returned to the living room. The last two doors in the apartment were to the left of the front door and led to a small closet - probably where Adrien would have hung her jacket - and an adjacent guest toilet. Overall, the flat was stylish and elegant without being cold. She wouldn't describe it as cozy per se, but there was definitely a warmth throughout, largely a consequence of the abundant natural light and plant life.

Marinette returned to the record player and scoured the collection of vinyl on a nearby shelf. Inspired by the piano, she chose a Debussy compilation. The initial static pop that issued forth when she lowered the arm to the turntable sent a thrill up her spine. When _Clair de Lune_ began to seep from the horn she closed her eyes and felt a deep calm spread through her. Her parents loved to play all sorts of music in the bakery and this song instantly transported her through time. She could practically smell the rich, buttery warmth of fresh-baked croissants; feel soft, sticky dough between her fingers; and hear the distant muffled laughter of her parents in the other room.

“I love this record,” came a voice from behind her.

Marinette’s eyes shot open and she gave a startled squeak as she jumped to face it, immediately beginning to fall in her unbalanced haste. A pair of strong arms clamped around her before she could crash into the phonograph.

All she could see was paisley. “I’m so sorry, Marinette!” the voice rumbled. Adrien had pulled her against his chest, and she could feel the vibration of his voice in her breast. Despite having just come from the gym, or maybe because of the recent exercise, he smelled good enough to eat.

She gently extricated herself from his arms, heart racing faster than when she had been imagining all the ways he could murder her on the commute over. _And maybe he still will,_ she couldn’t help but think as she tried to steady her breathing after the scare. When she finally looked up at him, she almost burst out laughing. He was completely flustered.

“I thought you must have heard me open the door,” he spluttered. “Are you okay?”

Marinette waved him off, unable to stifle her giggles any longer. “You nearly gave me a heart attack, but I’ll live.”

He relaxed slightly. “Again, my sincerest apologies. I should have announced my presence more clearly.”

She finally got herself back under control. “Adrien, this is _your_ apartment, remember?”

His eyes remained wary. “It’s just… I realized on the drive back that this situation must be a bit unorthodox for you. I didn’t think about how strange it would be for you to come over to the apartment of a man you’d never met... I really need this meeting to go well and don’t want to scare you off now.”

Marinette raised her hands in a placating gesture. “It’s okay, Adrien. I was apprehensive at first, but you’ve been such a gentleman it would never cross my mind to skip out on you.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Are you sure? You’re definitely free to leave if I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“Promise,” she replied with a smile. She winced suddenly realizing what his presence meant. “Is it that late already?” she asked looking down at her watch to confirm the time.

Adrien nodded. “Afraid so. I’m going to go get cleaned up and then I can come help you finish prepping.” He reached behind her and changed the output on the phonograph. The gentle sway of _Clair de Lune_ instantly began to percolate throughout the entire apartment.

“Sounds like a plan,” Marinette said, giving him a double thumbs up before turning to scurry back into the kitchen. She tried and failed not to imagine what Adrien would look like in the shower.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

Marinette was relieved to find Tikki crouched behind the island. “Quick thinking,” she told the little god.

“I tried to warn you, but you were in another world,” Tikki shrugged apologetically.

“Definitely not your fault,” Marinette reassured her as she reached into her bag to pull out the key secret ingredient for tonight’s dinner: a bottle of Madame Césaire’s blackening seasoning. She set about the kitchen, creating workstations for each course. By the time she was done, Adrien re-appeared, walking into the kitchen through the dining room door with wine decanter in hand. Tikki quickly disappeared back into Marinette’s handbag.

“My father sent over a few bottles of his favorite cabernet,” he said setting the decanter down on the island. “I thought I would open a bottle now to give it time to breathe.”

Marinette, who was busy whipping up the crème fraiche that would be delicately dolloped onto the crab cakes, did a double take when she looked up at him.

Adrien’s hair was parted awkwardly down the middle and he was wearing pleated khaki pants that were about two sizes too big for him. He’d paired the pants with a scarlet polo shirt which was tucked into his waistband. The color was all wrong on him. To cap it off, he was sporting a brown belt with black shoes. She was completely flabbergasted. _He’s a hot mess in every sense of the phrase,_ she thought. Even the fencing uniform had been better than his current ensemble.

Marinette gave a polite cough to keep herself from muttering in outrage over the wasted potential. “You said this was a business meeting?” she asked as nonchalantly as a budding fashion designer assaulted by such poor taste could.

Adrien didn’t seem to notice her overly sweet tone. “Yes,” he replied with a short grunt as he uncorked an expensive looking bottle of wine. “My father wants me to start working for his company and I’ll be meeting a few of his investors this evening.”

“Oh,” Marinette continued coolly as she persisted in pretending her entire focus was not on Adrien’s abysmal attire. “What sort of company?”

“He’s a fashion designer.”

Thankfully, Adrien was concentrating so thoroughly on pouring the wine he didn’t notice Marinette freeze.

“And…” she pressed lightly, when she could speak again. “Is the outfit you’re wearing from your father’s most recent collection?”

“No,” he replied breezily as he finished pouring and began to rinse out the bottle to place in the recycling bin. “My father sent over several pieces that I was going to hang on display in the living room.” His eyes widened suddenly. “Wait… should _I_ be wearing them?!”

Marinette tried not to nod too vigorously at his revelation.

Adrien looked like he was slipping into a full-on panic. “Marinette, I know this wasn’t in the job description for tonight, but Madame Chamack mentioned that you also do custom fittings and have an online clothing boutique, would it be too much of an imposition to get your opinion on what I should wear?”

Marinette couldn’t believe her ears.

“I’ll pay you extra!” he begged, eyes wild as he took a look at his watch (the most fashionable part of his outfit) and saw the time. The guests were supposed to arrive in 15 minutes. He gestured towards his current ensemble. “As you might have noticed, I’m not particularly adept in this department.”

She set her bowl down and clapped her hands together, striking the pose she performed so often as Ladybug when she developed a plan of attack. “Not to be too forthcoming, but I may have started crying on the inside when you walked through the door.”

Adrien gave her a wry smile, “Tell me how you really feel, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

She was almost jumping with excitement now. “Take me to the clothes!” she commanded. “And while we’re at it, let’s talk about that hair style,” she added as they made their way towards the master suite.

“What’s wrong with my hair?” he shot her a confused look over his shoulder, reaching up to tug on a wayward strand.

“I think the question is: why do you feel the need to torture my eyeballs?” Marinette quipped immediately and then blushed. _So much for keeping my mouth shut,_ she chided herself.

To her relief, Adrien burst out laughing.

When they entered his bedroom, Marinette saw that the aforementioned clothing was laid out on his bed.

“I was trying to pair pieces for the display,” he said sheepishly, hand back on the nape of his neck.

Marinette bit her tongue as she looked over his attempt.

Adrien flashed her an encouraging smile. “Come on,” he gently reprimanded her. “Don’t hold back on me now.”

She practically dove at the bed and eagerly began to rearrange the collection. “I can’t believe your father didn’t send these to you as complete sets,” she thought out loud as she worked.

“Perhaps it was some sort of test,” Adrien mused, the corners of his mouth beginning to droop.

Marinette clicked her tongue. “No offense, but if that’s the case and you haven’t had any training, it’s a bit of a…” She shut her mouth abruptly.

“Dick move?” Adrien finished for her with a laugh.

She could feel the warmth of a blush spread across her face and neck. “Before you dock my pay, I would like to point out that you said it not me.” She took a step back and opened her arms wide to showcase her work. “Ta da!”

His eyes widened. “I may not be able to style myself, but even I can tell that those combinations are perfect!”

Adrien's compliment did little to lessen her flush. “Oh, it’s n-nothing,” she spluttered, flapping her hands with a nervous chuckle.

She’d compiled three different outfits from the available pieces, each representing a different level of formality.

“Which one do you think I should wear this evening?” Adrien asked as he took another glance at his watch. Ten minutes and counting.

Marinette’s gaze swept over him, sizing him up the way she did anyone she was about to perform a fitting on, then looked back at his choices. “I’d go with the middle ensemble,” she said with an assertive nod. “It’s professional but not overly intimidating. This is an intimate setting, so you want to look sophisticated but not overwhelmingly formal.”

Adrien’s shoulders immediately relaxed. “Amazing, Marinette! I can’t thank you enough.” He began untucking his polo shirt and Marinette whirled her body in the direction of the bathroom when she saw him start to raise it over his head. But not before she caught a glimpse of his lower abs, an image she would definitely be revisiting when she was home alone tonight.

“I’m just going to scope out the hair product situation,” Marinette squeaked as she ducked out of the bedroom.

 _Doesn’t he realize what sort of effect he has on my poor hetero-sex drive?_ she thought desperately as she began to sift through the various bottles sitting on the marble sink countertop.

“My father also stocked the bathroom,” Adrien called. “I’m guessing you’ll find anything you need in there.”

After sorting through the available products, Marinette picked out a styling cream and bottle of cologne. Since Adrien’s hair was on the longer side, the cream would allow for a feather-light, flowy style that would hold without looking manufactured. The cologne had a mild scent; something to add an additional layer of refinement that wouldn’t overpower the olfactory palate of the dinner guests and cover up the faint aroma of camembert that seemed to cling to Adrien.

Items in hand, Marinette gave a small knock on the open bathroom door. “All changed?” she asked timidly.

“Yup!” came the affirmative.

Marinette stepped out as Adrien turned to face her, arms outstretched.

Her mouth dropped open. “You look wonderful,” she let out before she could stop herself.

He was wearing [black wool trousers](https://res.cloudinary.com/everlane/image/upload/c_fill,dpr_1.0,f_auto,h_1200,q_auto,w_1200/v1/i/b422d1f1_7507.jpg), a perfectly crisp, [fitted white t-shirt with a slight v-neck](https://www.everlane.com/products/mens-tailored-v-tee-white?collection=mens-tees), and a tailored, [buttonless black blazer](http://g02.a.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1T3iqJXXXXXaVapXXq6xXFXXX7/New-Black-font-b-Blazer-b-font-font-b-Men-b-font-Autumn-Winter-Fashion-Design.jpg) with the sleeves rolled up three-quarters of the way to showcase the delicately patterned black-and-white lining. He’d kept his black shoes but now had on a skinny black leather belt with a subtle silver buckle. The only other accessories he sported were his watch, which needed no substitution, and a silver ring on his right hand that Marinette hadn’t noticed until now.

She snapped out of it. “I m-mean,” she stuttered. “You look like you are about to host the best business dinner in the history of business dinners!”

He gave her a shy smile; cheeks tinted a lovely shade of pink. “Thank you, Marinette. Your confidence in me means a lot.”

After a brief beat of uncomfortable silence, Marinette blurted, “Sit!”

He immediately complied, perching gracefully on the edge of the bed. She walked over, avoiding his gaze as she set the cologne bottle next to him and twisted open the styling cream. She handed the jar to him and tentatively scooped out a half tablespoon with her index finger.

“Okay if I just dive in?” she asked, spreading the cream over her palms for more even distribution.

“Go for it,” he replied.

She saw his eyes flutter closed as her hands slid into his hair. She was pleased to find that his locks were as silky as the peony she had caressed on her way to his front door. She wanted to play with it for hours but knew time was of the essence, so she settled for the few deliberate strokes needed to get it to settle into a more natural looking side part.

She took a step back to check her work and was pleased to note the rosy tint of Adrien’s cheeks from her ministrations. _Holy smokes, he’s gorgeous!_

“Voilà!” she exclaimed instead, grabbing the jar of cream from his hand and screwing the lid back on. “Come take a look.”

She grabbed the cologne bottle and headed back to the bathroom, Adrien following close behind.

His mouth was agape as he studied his reflection in the mirror.

“See,” she laughed. “You clean up nicely.” She set the bottles down and washed her hands as he continued to gawp at the mirror in disbelief.

“Now, for the finishing touch,” she murmured, drying her hands and picking up the cologne. With her free hand she turned his wrist over and gave a small spritz to the inner surface.

Upon returning the bottle to the counter, she rubbed her wrists together to show him how to distribute the scent. “Just do this, and then place a little on the sides of your neck as well.” She brought her wrists up and gently ran them forward along the edge of her jaw to demonstrate.

He took a small whiff of the cologne, lighting up with appreciation at the chosen scent, before copying her actions.

“Like this?” he asked when he finished.

She took a step back and gave him a final once over. “You look p-perfect, Adrien.”

He beamed with admiration. “All thanks to my personal stylist! I seriously can’t thank you enough, Marinette.”

She averted her gaze and caught sight of the time. “Oh!” she gasped. “Just five minutes until showtime!” She recapped the bottle and darted out of the master suite back towards the kitchen.

Adrien strolled closely behind, shutting all the doors on the left side of his apartment as he went, to discourage the guests from wandering.

“What’s the schedule for this evening?” Marinette asked over her shoulder as they passed into the kitchen. She opened the oven to check on the appetizers and began to plate them on two silver platters she had pulled from one of the cabinets prior to Adrien’s makeover.

“Appetizers out now with the wine,” Adrien replied as he pulled a stack of six small plates from a cupboard. He set them on the island and briefly disappeared into the dining room to retrieve the ice bucket, which he promptly began to fill.

“About 1830, we’ll move into the dining room and you can start the dinner service with the salad course,” he pulled a chilled bottle of chardonnay from the fridge and carefully uncorked it before placing it in the ice bucket. “How does 20 minutes for the salad and jambalaya courses, 45 minutes for the main, 15 for dessert, and a coffee and tea service in the living room at evening’s end sound?”

“Exact timing I had in mind,” Marinette confirmed as she put the finishing touches on the appetizers and very carefully carried them into the living room. She set them gently down on the glass coffee table, making sure to move the orchid to one side so it wouldn’t be in danger of getting knocked over.

Adrien followed shortly with the wine decanter in one hand and the ice bucket in the other. There was just enough space left on the table for the stack of plates, cocktail napkins, and six empty wine glasses which Marinette and Adrien quickly retrieved from the kitchen.

“There will be two women in the party,” Adrien said as he removed the Debussy compilation and replaced it with a smooth jazz record. “I’ll make sure they’re seated closest to the dining room door so you can serve them first. My father will be at the head of the table, on the far end, and I will sit opposite him, so you can serve him third and continue to go counterclockwise ending with me.”

Before Marinette had a chance to answer, there came a knock at the door.

“Showtime!” Marinette gave him an encouraging smile and held out her fist.

He gave a soft chuckle and gently bumped the extended appendage with his own. “See you in half an hour!”

Adrien strode over to the entrance and Marinette hurried back to the kitchen, shutting the double doors behind her. She pressed her ear to the seam and heard the front door open. She couldn’t make out any words but followed the muffled voices into the living room before getting started on the remaining components of the jambalaya so that it would be ready just as the salad course was coming to a close.

She was grateful for the soothing music playing softly over the sound system. Maintaining a calm composure would be key to wrangling her clumsiness. She’d only catered one other multi-course meal and there had been a teeny mishap with the soup. Luckily, she’d only spilled in the kitchen and not on one of the guests.

Marinette took a few moments to fill the water glasses and light the candles in the dining room. The sun set fairly early this time of year and the night sky was already visible through the windows. After ensuring that the candles provided adequate light, she ducked back into the kitchen to plate the salads.

At 1830 on the dot, she heard the guests enter the dining room and steeled her nerves for the beginning of the dinner service. She took a deep breath in and blew it out slowly, counting to ten.

As soon as it sounded like the guests were settled, Marinette picked up two plates and pushed open the dining room door. Nothing could have prepared her for what she encountered.

Sitting at the far end of the table, dressed in his signature suit and tie, was none other than Gabriel Agreste: the most prestigious fashion designer in all of France. Her mind went blank.

Thankfully, as Adrien had promised, the two women were seated nearest the door. She managed to place a salad in front of each without incident and moved as inconspicuously as possible back into the kitchen.

“Tikki,” she whispered urgently towards her open bag. “You’ll never believe this! Adrien’s father is THE Gabriel Agreste!”

A gasp came from the opening as the kwami’s blue eyes emerged from the darkness.

“I can’t believe I got to touch pieces from his new collection,” Marinette almost passed out thinking back to the outfits she’d styled for Adrien earlier.

“I know how excited you are, Marinette,” Tikki’s voice soothed. “But you need to focus on the task at hand.”

Tikki was right, Marinette didn’t have time to perseverate on the strange circumstances that had brought her in contact with one of her fashion icons. She needed to get the remaining diners the current course as soon as possible so her timings wouldn’t be off. After a few seconds pause, she managed to pull herself together enough to serve the remaining four salads without any disasters.

Before heading back to the kitchen to start warming plates and put the finishing touches on the jambalaya, she scurried back through the double doors to the living room to clear the appetizers and grab the wine. She left the platters next to the sink and took the bucket and decanter through to the dining room. She set both on the sideboard and quietly moved around the room topping off drinks as needed.

When she bent to refill Adrien’s chardonnay, he gave her a friendly wink to let her know the evening was off to a smooth start. She returned the gesture, whispering a silent prayer of thanks that he had turned out to be more teammate than manager.

!@#$%^*()(*&^%$#@!

Despite the surprise appearance of Marinette’s idol, the service went off without a hitch. She finally let herself relax when the guests returned to the living room. She’d set up coffee and tea during dessert and knew she could spend the rest of the evening cleaning up the dining room and kitchen. No more opportunities to embarrass herself in front of Mr. Agreste.

 _Unless he stays to talk to Adrien after the other guests leave,_ her anxious brain thought fit to remind her.

Fortunately for Marinette, that didn’t happen. Around 2100, Marinette heard the party moving towards the front door and a few moments later Adrien joined her in the kitchen, a huge smile plastered on his face.

When he was near enough, he held up his fist.

“Success?” Marinette beamed as she bumped it with her own.

“Success!” he confirmed, relief evident in his every motion.

“Knew you had everything under control,” Marinette said, turning back to the sink. Adrien had a dishwasher, but the dishes used that evening seemed like the type that required handwashing.

To her surprise, Adrien began to dry and stack plates as she cleaned them. “I seriously couldn’t have done it without you, Marinette! You should have seen the look on my father’s face when he saw me. Mind you, he doesn’t have a wide range of expression, but I’ve never seen him look more shocked. He actually said he was looking forward to seeing me at the office on Monday!”

Marinette beamed at him. She let the silence breathe for a second before tentatively posing the question she’d been dying to ask Adrien all evening. “So… your father is Gabriel Agreste?” she probed with an air of indifference she definitely did not feel.

“Oh!” Adrien turned to her surprised. “You recognized him?”

Marinette almost dropped the plate she was working on. “ _Recognized him_?!?” she squeaked, looking over at Adrien. “He’s the biggest name in fashion in Europe right now! Of course, I know who he is! About a month ago, I won a hat-making competition and was granted the opportunity to perform grunt work at one of his fashion shows; it was the happiest day of my life!”

Catching herself, she turned back to the sink and willed the blush she knew was staining her face to disappear.

“I’m sorry, Marinette,” Adrien said earnestly. “If I’d known, I would have warned you _and_ given you a proper introduction.”

She looked back at him and balked, taken aback by his guilt-ridden expression. She let out an unladylike snort. “No apology necessary. To be completely honest, if you had told me, I might have freaked out and cancelled. I can be quite clumsy and the fear of dropping a plate of blackened catfish into Gabriel Agreste’s lap might have propelled me out the door.”

Adrien’s laugh echoed off the sparkling countertops.

She stuck her tongue out at him. “Besides which,” she continued, handing him the plate she had just finished scrubbing. “It sounds like you were right. The outfits were a test, and you needed to take the credit.”

He frowned and paused mid-wipe. “My conscience takes issue with this,” he finally said as he resumed drying.

“I’m happy to give you a crash course in fashion if that will ease your mind,” she said half-jokingly.

“Do you mean that?” he asked eagerly, turning to face her.

“Uhh…” Marinette spluttered, completely taken aback by his enthusiasm. “Well i-if that’s actually s-something you want…”

“Yes!” he cried immediately. “What are you doing this Saturday?”

Marinette’s mind was reeling. She’d been planning to work on LadyBlog clothing orders this weekend. However, after a few moments of careful calculation she concluded that if she sewed nonstop Sunday afternoon, she could make up for the missed day.

“Teaching you Fashion 101?” she said finally.

“I’m going to have to send Madame Chamack the biggest box of chocolates to thank her for bringing you into my life!” he gushed. “And don’t worry,” he added hurriedly. “I fully intend to pay you for your time. Whatever you charge per hour for personal consulting for the whole day.”

“But…” Marinette started.

“No buts,” he cut her off, turning back to his drying duty. “Spending time with me means not spending time on your other work. I have to compensate you accordingly.”

She wanted to argue but couldn’t fault his logic. It’s not like she didn’t need the money.

“Fine,” she conceded.

“Excellent! Now pass me more dishes, Miss Dupain-Cheng; this kitchen isn’t going to clean itself.”

!$%^&)(*&^%$#@!@

Even though Marinette’s services included cleaning up after the meal, Adrien insisted on helping. As they worked, they talked, and Marinette soon came to learn why Adrien’s relationship with his father was so strained.

Adrien had been conceived out of wedlock. Gabriel Agreste met Emilie Graham de Vanily while traveling the world in search of rare textiles. She was filming a movie in Tibet when they crossed paths in a bazaar. Despite the use of protection, their whirlwind affair ended with Emilie confronting Gabriel with the news of his impending fatherhood.

Since Gabriel was already a rising star in the fashion world and Emilie was a minor celebrity, he thought it best to avoid scandal by eloping. He and Emilie married in secret, and she raised Adrien in her coastal hometown with the help of her parents, who took care of him whenever she was away filming. Gabriel would visit as often as work allowed but seemed more interested in being Emilie’s husband than he was in being Adrien’s father whenever he came to town, despite Emilie’s attempts at protest.

When Adrien was eight years old, Emilie became sick and Gabriel whisked her away to the most prestigious hospital in France. Adrien never saw her again. 

From then on, he was raised entirely by his grandparents. Gabriel would send a monthly stipend for his care and insisted that Adrien learn piano and Mandarin, but otherwise, became an even more absentee parent.

Adrien’s grandparents operated a beachside chateau that served as a resort for wealthy tourists. He grew up working there and had always planned on taking it over from them. Unfortunately, the pair had passed away last year, and Adrien learned shortly after their deaths that his father was actually the legal owner of the resort.

Gabriel agreed to sign the deed over to Adrien if Adrien moved to Paris and worked at Agreste Fashion for a year. Adrien hadn’t yet figured out why his father wanted him to have a hand in the business now, but he didn’t have much choice in the matter. He’d moved to the city six months ago and tonight was the first time he’d seen his father in-person in almost twenty years. Based on his father’s reaction, it seemed like the deal would be moving forward, and Adrien’s contract would start on Monday.

Marinette was aghast. Her admiration for Gabriel Agreste had taken a sharp nosedive during the conversation.

“What have you been doing for the last six months?” she croaked. They’d finished cleaning long ago and Adrien had offered her a glass of wine. They were seated outside on the balcony, enjoying the calm night air. 

“I’ve kept myself busy,” he shrugged noncommittally. “The first few months I oversaw the renovation on the apartment. My father owns the building and uses it to house designers on extended contract to the company from other countries.

“Once I was settled in, I started taking a fencing class. My grandfather got me into the sport when I was a teenager and it’s still one of my favorite forms of exercise.

“I don’t know anyone in Paris besides my father, so outside of fencing, I mostly stay in and read, try out new recipes, practice piano, et cetera.”

Maybe it was the fact that Marinette was on her second glass of wine, but she jumped up in outrage. “Unacceptable!”

“And what do you plan on doing about it, Miss Dupain-Cheng?” Adrien laughed.

She pointed an accusatory finger at him, but his smile stayed firmly affixed. “After Fashion 101 on Saturday, you are coming out with us!” she announced.

“Us?” Adrien asked, cocking his head.

“My roommate, Alya, has been prodding me nonstop to go to that new club in the Latin Quarter and you are coming with us!”

“But…” Adrien began.

“No buts!” she declared and smirked at him.

He sighed in resignation.

“Turnabout is fair play,” she finalized, settling back into her seat and polishing off her wine. She glanced at her watch and jumped back up.

“It’s nearly midnight!” she cried, grabbing her glass and running back into the kitchen. “Alya must think you murdered me after all!” 

“What?” Adrien chuckled as he followed her inside and closed the balcony doors.

“I may or may not have taken certain precautions in the event you were planning on dicing me up to serve for dinner,” she replied breezily as she gave their wine glasses a quick cleanse.

The shadow of guilt crossed his face. “Once again: I am terribly sorry about that, Marinette.”

“Cut that out,” she chided. “I couldn’t be happier with how this evening turned out.”

“And I couldn’t agree more,” he said.

Marinette gathered her belongings and began heading towards the front door.

“Hold on,” Adrien said, lightly grabbing her forearm.

Fire shot through her but thankfully the contact was brief as he dropped his hand almost immediately to pull his cellphone out of his pocket.

“It’s so late,” he said. “I insist my driver take you home.”

He held a finger up to cut off her protest before she opened her mouth. “I know you are perfectly capable of traversing the underground at night alone. You are doing _me_ a favor by accepting the ride. Please, for my personal peace of mind, take my car.”

She rolled her eyes but nodded her acceptance.

“Perfect!” he said hitting the call button. After a few rings, Marinette heard a grunt answer the phone. “Hi, G,” Adrien replied. “I need you to take Miss Dupain-Cheng home, please.”

The person on the other end of the line answered with another grunt.

“Great! She’ll be down in five. Thank you!” Adrien hung up and slid his phone back into his pocket before tugging out his wallet. He extracted a stack of bills and held it out to Marinette without counting them.

“I figured you would prefer to be paid in cash,” he said. “But I can also pay you via check or Venmo or…”

“Cash is fine,” she said, slipping the stack into her purse.

“If that amount doesn’t also cover the surprise styling session, add the extra charges to the invoice for Saturday,” he continued as he walked her to the door.

He escorted her out into the hallway and pushed the call button for the elevator.

“Will do, Mister Graham de Vanily,” she said with another valiant attempt at a curtsy. She was pleased to see another blush spread across his cheeks.

“Until Saturday, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he bowed as she stepped into the elevator.

She waved until the doors slid shut, then leaned back against the cold metal interior, eyes closed. It wasn’t until she was halfway back down to the lobby that she remembered the spare key in her back pocket.

“Damn,” she muttered, pressing the button for the penthouse. It would only be a few days until she saw Adrien again, but she figured it was better to return it now lest she forget to bring it with her on Saturday.

When she stepped back into the entryway, she was surprised to hear the strong pulse of rock music seeping out from Adrien’s apartment. She knocked as loudly as physically possible but to no avail.

“Adrien!” she yelled, with some more sharp whacks for good measure. Still no response.

“Fuck it,” she murmured, sliding the spare key into the lock.

The music was deafening; no wonder he hadn’t been able to hear her.

“Adrien!” she called again, taking a few cautious steps into the apartment. All that greeted her was the beginning of a blaring guitar solo.

She warily made her way further into the apartment and breathed a sigh of relief when she saw the door to the master suite was cracked open and a man’s shadow moved across the light spilling into the hallway.

She knocked loudly, “Adrien?” Without waiting for a response, she gently pushed the door the rest of the way open. The bottom immediately dropped out of her stomach.

Adrien’s back was to her and it was completely bare. She’d been gone for less than five minutes and in that time, he had changed from chinos into a pair of leather pants that hugged every line of his body, leaving little left to the imagination. His shoes and socks had also been removed, abandoned near the door through which she’d just entered. And, most shocking of all, he was dancing! The no-holds-barred, free-wheeling kind she did when jamming alone in her apartment. She was so enraptured by the vision before her, she completely missed a small black cat dart behind the pillows on Adrien’s bed.

Once Marinette recovered her senses, she attempted to back out of the room without attracting his attention. No sooner had she taken a step back then Adrien whirled in her direction, air guitar in hand, lip-synching so precisely that Marinette wondered momentarily if he was actually singing. As soon as he noticed her, he froze.

After a tense beat, Marinette gave an awkward wave. The motion jolted Adrien into action, and he dove for a remote on the bed. With the single press of a button, the music was silenced.

“I am also a Jagged Stone fan,” Marinette finally broke the tension as she fought not to ogle Adrien’s perfectly sculpted torso.

Pink quickly stained the poor boy’s face. “Greatest musician of his generation,” he eventually managed.

She noticed that his hair had returned to the naturally tousled state it had been in when she first met him, plastered slightly to his forehead by a delicate sheen of sweat.

“I forgot to return the spare key,” she continued self-consciously, holding up the cursed object.

“Oh!” he stepped towards her with his free hand outstretched. “I completely forgot about that.”

“Have you no sense of self-preservation?” she scowled faintly at him. The closer he got, the faster she could feel her heart beating.

The last of the tension dissipated. “I thought we’d established that I have no cause to worry about you robbing me?” he teased as he took the key from her.

“Murder was never taken off the table,” Marinette smirked. _Or sexual assault…_ she thought, watching the way his arm muscles tensed as he reached out for the key. _My god, how do I function in polite society?_

Adrien looked her up and down skeptically.

“I’m strangely insulted by the fact you think me incapable of murder,” she scoffed in response.

His laughter rang out, filling the gap the music had left behind. She couldn’t help but join in.

“I better head back down,” Marinette said when they eventually collected themselves. “I don’t want to keep your driver waiting.”

“I’ll walk you out again,” Adrien said, gesturing towards the hallway.

“A true knight in shining leather,” she blushed, stepping back the way she’d come.

Suddenly remembering his current state of dress, Adrien’s face also took on a red glow. “Just one of the ways I unwind,” he explained sheepishly.

“Like I said earlier, this is _your_ apartment, Adrien. You really don’t have to explain yourself to me,” she replied as they made their way through the living room. “I’d ease your mind by telling you the myriad cringeworthy activities I engage in to unwind, but I think I’ve made enough of a fool of myself for this evening.”

She would never tire of hearing him laugh. “Then I will look forward to learning more about those activities at a later date,” he said as he held the front door open for her.

A feeling of déjà vu fell over the pair as they approached the elevator.

“Au revoir again, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he said as the lift arrived. “Until Saturday. 1000 in the lobby work for you?”

“It’s a date, Mister Graham de Vanily,” she confirmed.

As soon as the elevator began its descent, she realized her faux pas. “Tikki, can you please remind me never to speak to another human being again?”

The little kwami’s giggles echoed off the walls for the rest of the ride down.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading and a special shoutout to everyone who has left kudos and comments! 
> 
> Next chapter "The Fashion Lesson" will be posted 12/21 :)


	3. The Fashion Lesson

“Ow!” Marinette shouted, rubbing her arm for the umpteenth time since returning to the flat she shared with Alya.

“Girl, I’m not even hitting you that hard,” was her best friend’s immediate response. “Also, you deserve it for making me think you’d been Black Dahlia-ed and were dead in a ditch somewhere.”

“I love you?” Marinette tried.

Alya cocked an eyebrow at her. “I suppose that will do,” she conceded. “ _If_ you tell me why the hell you were gone for so long.”

“Over breakfast tomorrow?” Marinette negotiated. “It’s after midnight and I’m exhausted.”

“And whose fault is that?” Alya smirked.

“Pretty please with a Pulitzer on top!” Marinette begged.

Alya waved her off. “Fine, but you’re paying.”

“Fair,” Marinette sighed as she started to drag herself towards her bedroom. She was pretty sure it was her turn to pay regardless.

“Good night!” she called back over her shoulder. “I really do love you!”

“I know,” Alya stuck her tongue out as she shut her own bedroom door.

As soon as Marinette was alone, Tikki zipped free and dove into a stash of macaroons Marinette had set out before she left for her gig. By the time Tikki had cleaned the plate, Marinette was finished with her nighttime routine and had fallen into bed. The kwami joined her shortly after, curling into a ball on the pillow next to the girl’s cheek.

“Goodnight, Tikki,” Marinette whispered. “Thank you for helping me get through the day.”

“You’re welcome. Sweet dreams, Marinette,” came the soft reply.

Only minutes later, Marinette could hear the quiet, rhythmic whooshing of Tikki’s snores. It took much longer for the girl to slip into slumber. Her mind raced with thoughts of Adrien. When her brain finally let her rest, her dreams were filled with laughter and leather pants; some of which were accompanied by a belted tail.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

Marinette snoozed her alarm no less than five times the next morning and only rose when she heard Alya singing in the shower. Not wanting to be left without hot water, Marinette bolted out of bed and sprung into her own bathroom, stripping as she went. She tried to wash the visions of black cats and half-naked blondes from her mind along with the previous day’s grime.

She had fittings scheduled for later that morning and afternoon, but otherwise planned on working on filling boutique and LadyBlog orders for the rest of the day. On-site tailoring usually required a lot of flittering and bending about the client, so she opted for [skinny leg stretch performance-knit navy dress pants](https://www.betabrand.com/womens/pants/dress-pant-yoga-pants-collection/cigarette-leg-stretchy-yoga-pants-with-pockets), a [bone cashmere crewneck sweater](https://www.everlane.com/products/womens-cashmere-crew2-bone?collection=womens-all), and pink flats for a pop of color that would match the [travel bag](https://www.everlane.com/products/womens-renew-weekender-black?collection=womens-backpacks-bags) containing all of her on-the-go sewing supplies as well as her everyday bag. She plaited her hair in a single long braid and topped her appearance off with a thin layer of perfecting skin tint and a long-lasting matte pink lipstick.

“Time to hit the road, Tikki,” she called after a final sweep of her reflection.

Tikki zoomed into her open bag and settled in with an adorable wiggle.

“I promise to slip you the mini palmier that comes with my cappuccino,” Marinette said before sealing the kwami in.

When Marinette emerged from her room, Alya was waiting, dressed to kill in a [dusty blue jumpsuit](https://www.everlane.com/products/womens-jpnse-goweave-essential-jumpsuit-dustyblue?collection=dresses) with an elegant double-V neckline, wide legs, and a tie belt to emphasize her hourglass silhouette. Her ombre hair was thrown into a messy bun held with two pencils. The pièce de résistance was a gold fox tail necklace that she’d started wearing daily about a year ago.

“How does anyone get any work done in your office?” Marinette said with an appreciative nod towards her roommate’s clothing choice.

“Have you seen our sales this quarter?” Alya grinned at her. “I’m not convinced that they do.”

Marinette giggled as she opened the front door, although she made a mental note to engage Alya in a serious conversation regarding the state of the journal at a later time. “To Brina’s?”

“To Brina’s!” Alya echoed, leading the charge to their favorite local café.

 _Sabrina’s Pâtisserie_ was a short block away. As always, the table closest to the window sported a “Reserved” sign. Alya took her usual seat and Marinette placed her travel bag on the chair opposite before heading up to the counter to order.

“Bonjour, Brina!” she greeted the ginger-haired woman behind the register.

“Bonjour, Marinette!” Sabrina replied with a smile. “The usual?”

“But of course,” Marinette laughed, scanning the display counter as she always did, despite the fact that her order never deviated.

Sabrina disappeared briefly into the kitchen and returned bearing two small plates. One contained a steaming pain au chocolat and the other a fresh croissant. Marinette nearly started salivating.

“You spoil us, Brina,” she said as Sabrina slid the plates onto the counter in front of Marinette.

“You are my best customers,” she responded with a wink.

Marinette handed her a 10 € note before picking up the plates.

“I’ll bring drinks to your table as soon as their ready,” Sabrina said, turning to the espresso machine.

“Merci!” Marinette called over her shoulder.

Upon reaching the table, she set the pain au chocolat in front of her companion before maneuvering her bag gently down to the floor and thumping into her own seat.

“Now then,” Alya began, elbows on the table and fingers steepled as though she were about to begin an interrogation. “Proceed with your story.”

“You’d think you were an investigative reporter or something,” Marinette murmured, shaking her head.

“Speak!” Alya barked.

Marinette gave her a sarcastic salute. “Yes, ma’am! But before I do, you have to promise not to publish anything I’m about to tell you.”

“What?” Alya squinted at her in suspicion. 

“You’ll understand why when I’ve finished,” Marinette assured her.

“Fine, fine,” Alya waved her off. “If I must.”

They were briefly interrupted by Sabrina, who placed a mocha breve next to Alya’s pan au chocolat and a cappuccino in front of Marinette. There was a tiny palmier on both saucers.

“You’re the best!” the pair said in unison as Sabrina turned to head back to the counter.

“Okay…” Marinette began. She recounted the entirety of yesterday’s events, beginning with the moment she met her mysterious client and ending with the discovery of said client gyrating, shirtless in skintight leather pants, to one of her favorite rock ballads.

At this last part, Alya laughed so hard she almost choked on her pastry and couldn’t speak until she’d washed the bite down with a large swig of mocha. When she finally stopped coughing and caught her breath she managed to wheeze, “I’m sure this will shock you, but I have so many follow up questions.”

“You may proceed,” Marinette said, popping the last piece of croissant into her mouth.

“First off,” Alya said much more clearly after another sip of mocha. “I will keep my promise not to publish any of this, but for the record, I will be reaching out to Agreste Fashion to inquire about an anonymous tip regarding the emergence of a secret heir. I can’t let a scoop like this go to waste and I’m sure their PR department is planning to announce Adrien’s existence at some point. I may just force them to move up their timeline.”

Marinette sighed but nodded in understanding. “I appreciate your honesty and hope they decide to give you the exclusive instead of denying everything.”

“Ditto,” Alya said, eyes shining with excitement at the prospect of publishing such a monumental exposé. “Will you be seeing him again?” she asked, a large grin spreading across her face.

Marinette felt her face warm. “He’s hired me for a fashion consultation on Saturday and I may or may not have invited him to go out with us afterwards.”

Alya’s eyebrows rose.

Marinette turned an even darker shade of scarlet and began to ramble, “He moved to the city six months ago and doesn’t know anyone here and I figured that, since you’ve been bugging me to go to that new nightclub, it would be a good opportunity for him to get out and meet people…”

“Chill, girl,” Alya said placing her hand on top of Marinette’s in a soothing gesture. “Not to sound judgmental but did your current predicament come up in conversation at all?”

Marinette sighed. “No… I mean… it’s not like I actually asked him out on a date. And where exactly was I supposed to throw out that bit of personal history?”

“The problem is, it isn’t _history_ ,” Alya said bluntly. She squeezed Marinette’s hand before letting go to grab her mocha. “It’s your _present_. And it sounds like you and Adrien had a connection. I’d just hate for him to find out at an inopportune moment and have the knowledge bomb quash a potential relationship.”

Marinette’s face fell. She had no idea if Adrien had felt the same sparks as she had, and even if he had, she owed it to a certain superhero not to pursue those sparks just yet. Alya was right regardless. Better to have all her cards out on the table.

“I’ll find a way to bring it up Saturday,” she said finally.

“That’s my girl,” Alya gave her an encouraging smile before draining the remainder of her mocha and glancing at her watch. “I gotta get in to the office and start making calls. Want my palmier?”

Marinette held her hand out for the extended treat; she’d managed to slip her own to Tikki while recounting the previous day’s events. 

“Thanks!” she said, quickly dropping it into her purse for the kwami while Alya was distracted before bending down to grab her travel bag. “If I want to be on time for my first appointment, I need to head out now too.”

The pair got up from the table simultaneously, waving goodbye to Sabrina as they made their way out of the now crowded café.

“What’s your schedule for today?” Alya asked before they parted ways.

“Two fittings and then back to the apartment to fill orders,” Marinette scowled suddenly. “Guess who my 9 o’clock is.” 

“No!” Alya gasped. “She’s back? I thought she was still in D.C. working on that big oil spill case?”

After being a menace through most of collège and lycée, Chloé Bourgeois had gone to law school and was now using her powers of manipulation for good. She travelled the world hiring out her expertise to many a prosecutor. She focused all her energy on bankrupting corporations that were found to have abused their employees or poisoned communities.

Marinette shook her head sadly. “Alas, the team that hired her won. Apparently, her mom’s new movie is premiering next Saturday and the dress Chloé ordered quote, Meets none of my requested specifications, end quote.”

“I don’t understand why she doesn’t just commission you to make her outfits instead of hiring you to essentially redo another designer’s work,” Alya muttered.

“My rates for alterations are cheaper and when she’s asked which designer she’s wearing she doesn’t have to give me the publicity?” Marinette offered.

“Of course,” Alya said lightly smacking her forehead. “Why give credit where credit is due when you don’t have to? For someone who spends her career helping lift up the little guy she sure likes to keep you under her thumb.”

“I’m just so darn special,” Marinette fluttered her eyelashes, hands under her chin. “Will I see you in aerial tonight?”

“Unless Agreste’s PR people only agree to talk to me between the hours of 1800 and 2000, I’ll be there,” Alya said with a thumbs up.

“Awesome!” Marinette said reaching out to embrace her best friend. “Good luck and have a good day!”

“You too,” Alya said giving the smaller girl a tight squeeze before breaking contact. “Don’t let the blondes get you down!” she finished with a wink as she let go and turned in the direction of her office.

Marinette let out a snort of laughter as she headed for the nearest métro station.

)(*&^%$#@!@#$%^&*()

Far too soon, Marinette found herself in front of Le Grand Paris.

“Bonjour, François!” she called as she approached the doorman.

“Bonjour, Marinette!” the tall man replied as he pulled open the door. “I didn’t expect to see you so soon after Madame’s return.”

“That makes two of us,” Marinette laughed as she stepped into the hotel lobby.

She waved at the security guard sitting behind the reception desk as she strode towards the elevator and he gestured Marinette along; no ID check required.

 _Another day, another penthouse suite,_ she thought as the elevator began to ascend.

Unlike Adrien, Chloé didn’t have the entire floor to herself, but she did reside in the most luxurious room the hotel had to offer and had done so for as long as Marinette could remember. Mr. Bourgeois had lived in the adjacent room until his retirement, at which time he became a member of his wife’s entourage; following her like a lovestruck puppy to every filming location.

Marinette waited until her watch read exactly 0900 before knocking loudly on Chloé’s door.

“Come in!” came the muffled response.

Marinette took a deep breath and entered, automatically winding her way to the walk-in closet. Inside she found Chloé standing on a small stage in front of three full-length lighted mirrors. Her client was bedecked in a shapeless long-sleeved yellow gown and had her cellphone pressed to her ear.

“Uh huh. Uh huh,” Chloé nodded into the phone. She turned the device 45 degrees and covered the mouthpiece before speaking at Marinette.

“I wanted something slimming with shimmering accents!” she hissed at Marinette. “Does this look anything at all like what I asked for?” she swept her arm down the length of the dress.

“Yes, Brad!” Chloé turned back to the phone. “Of course, I’m listening.”

Marinette got to work immediately, pinning the dress to the right size as Chloé continued her call. As soon as the fit was fixed, Marinette helped Chloé slip out of the dress, being careful not to knock the decorative silver bee comb out of her hair.

Unashamed, Chloé grabbed her laptop from a chair next to one of the mirrors and strolled out to the bedroom, settling herself up on the bed clad in just her underwear.

Marinette took the dress into Chloé’s office, where she was able to set-up her traveling sewing machine and get to work on the first round of alterations. At this point, Tikki was safe to come out and sat perched on the chair next to Marinette, snacking on the shortbread cookies her charge always kept in supply in the travel bag.

Thirty minutes later Marinette began her favorite part of the consultation: design. She knew Chloé would want the accent color to be black, so she started by lining the collar and sleeve ends with a thin black velvet ribbon. After that, she dove into her stash of black sequins. Taking inspiration from the roaring twenties, Marinette created a complex pattern of intersecting lines and whorls centered on the bodice and sleeves, which trailed onto the skirt of the gown. On top of this, she crafted a stunning appliqué in the shape of a raven, wings spread wide across the waist.

When Marinette finished the last stitch and sat up, she was surprised at how sore her upper back was. Glancing at her watch she saw that it was a little after noon. She carefully carried the dress back into the bedroom and signaled to Chloé, who was still on the phone, that it was ready for review. 

Chloé nodded and slid gracefully off the bed. Marinette followed her back into the closet and help her wriggle into the dress. Marinette zipped up the back and Chloé turned to study the designer’s handiwork.

If Marinette hadn’t been scrutinizing Chloé’s face so intently, she would have missed the ever so slight widening of the girl’s eyes. Marinette bit her lip to hold in a smile.

Chloé gave the barest nod to let Marinette know she approved of the final product before gesturing for Marinette to help her back out of the dress. Marinette complied and sealed the gown inside a waiting garment bag before hanging it up on the rack where Chloé stored formalwear.

Marinette proceeded to gather Tikki and her supplies from the office while Chloé fetched her purse and dug out a stack of euro bills. The blonde meticulously counted each note into Marinette’s hand and snapped her fingers impatiently when Marinette had trouble digging out her invoice.

As soon as Chloé had the proof of payment in hand, she turned her back on Marinette and returned to the bedroom.

Marinette stuffed the bills into her clutch, careful not to squish Tikki, and slipped back out the way she’d entered. It wasn’t until she said goodbye to the doorman that she realized she hadn’t spoken a word in hours.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!~

Marinette’s afternoon client was significantly chattier. She was an heiress who was getting married on Saturday and needed some last-minute alterations to her dress. The poor thing was so paranoid her fiancé would somehow catch sight of her in the dress before the big event, that she’d hired Marinette to make the necessary changes in the security of her own home.

By the time Marinette made it back to the apartment at 1500, she was mentally drained. Despite her fatigue, she managed to fill three LadyBlog orders before it was time to head to the aerial arts class she had been attending with Alya for three nights a week since they graduated from lycée. Fridays classes were free-range; everyone picked one art to focus on and the instructor went around the room offering feedback. Sometimes Marinette chose to work on the activity she was struggling with the most (lyra) but tonight she just wanted to unwind with something she excelled at: tissu.

“Tough day?” Alya grinned when she saw Marinette’s choice.

“Just long,” Marinette sighed as she stretched her triceps. “You?”

Alya’s grin grew. “Guess who’s going to have a two-on-one interview with Gabriel Agreste and his newly uncovered protégé on Monday?”

Marinette squealed and launched herself at Alya. The two girls clung to each other, jumping and shrieking in excitement.

“Ladies!” their instructor called, breaking up their celebration.

“Sorry, Madame Bodin!” they chorused, releasing each other almost immediately.

“I never doubted you,” Marinette said as she resumed her warm-up.

“I owe you a drink for the tip,” Alya replied, beginning her own stretch routine.

“I’m looking forward to Saturday all the more! What are you going to work on today?”

Alya waggled her eyebrows suggestively, “Speaking of Saturday, I thought I would do some pole work.”

Marinette let out a bark of laughter. “Like you need the practice,” she scoffed.

“What can I say? It puts me in the right mindset,” Alya winked.

Marinette stepped over to the nearest silk and gave them a test pull. “Should I make plans to stay at my parents for the night?” she asked cheekily.

“I assumed you’d be going home with Adrien,” Alya singsonged, a shit-eating grin plastered on her face.

Marinette, who had just secured herself in a single foot tie-in, almost lost her grip on the silks. “Alya!” she whispered harshly at the other girl’s retreating back.

“I love you!” Alya replied jovially with a wave over her shoulder as she made her way to the corner of the gym with the poles.

Marinette harrumphed before resuming her climb. She was glad she’d gone with the silks; joining her roomie on the poles would have elicited an endless string of similar smartass comments that Marinette was not in the mood to endure.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

The next morning Marinette rolled drowsily out of bed at 530 with the encouragement of her kwami. Since receiving the Miraculous a year ago when the Akuma attacks started, Marinette had added mixed martial arts to her workout regimen. The Miraculous enhanced her physical abilities so she’d figured out there was more to enhance as she got more physically fit in civilian form. She didn't usually attend the morning class, but since she would be spending the day with Adrien and going out that night, it was the only time slot she had available.

After a quick shot of espresso, she was awake enough to catch the métro to the gym. It was a huge facility and offered all manner of activities, including the aerial arts class Marinette and Alya frequented.

“Oh wow,” said the woman at the check-in desk when Marinette stumbled bleary-eyed through the front door. “Such a rare treat to see you here so early, Marinette.”

Marinette attempted to smile but felt like it came out as more of a grimace. Thankfully, the woman was familiar with Marinette’s anti-early bird personality and just laughed in response.

“I’ll make sure there’s a fresh pot of coffee out when you finish class,” the overly chipper woman winked.

Marinette actually did manage a weak smile that time, “You are a godsend, Caecilia.”

She pushed her way through the security turnstile and turned down the hallway towards the room where martial arts classes took place. She was one of the last people to arrive and the instructor waved briefly before turning her attention back to a new student that needed help putting on his hand wraps.

Marinette set her bag down and stripped off her joggers and hoodie before quickly putting on her own bright pink wraps, tying them on with the seasoned speed of a veteran boxer despite the sleepy fog still clouding her brain. By the time the class finished warming up with several alternating rounds of jump rope and shadow boxing the fog had lifted and Marinette was fired up for partner drills. She paired off with a young man she’d worked with a few times before. He wasn’t too much taller than her and they had been training for a similar amount of time.

Grappling was the focus for the day’s lesson, so they took turns practicing a wide variety of takedowns, throws, and holds as well as the escapes used to counteract such techniques. By the end of the class, Marinette’s muscles were shaking, and her pink no-yank tank top was firmly adhered to her torso by sweat.

It was Marinette’s turn to tryout the final skill for the morning: the half shoulder throw. Her partner aimed a straight punch at her face, which she stopped with an inside forearm block as she took a step forward with her right foot. She quickly followed the block with a punch to his bicep and elbow strike to his ribs, then brought her right arm under her partner’s and turned into him. She bent her knees and, with a small grunt, pulled him onto her back and straightened her legs, twisting her upper body slightly to roll him off and finishing him with a feigned jab to the neck once his back hit the floor. He gave her a thumbs up to signal that she’d successfully maneuvered him to the ground without actually injuring him.

As she offered him a hand up, she heard slow clapping from behind. She quickly high fived her partner then turned to see who was applauding her. Adrien, swathed in pastel blue fencing breeches and a white, grey, gold, and baby blue argyle jacket, was beaming broadly at her.

“I take back my earlier skepticism, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he said. “I will never doubt your capability to kill again.”

She laughed, “Always a good idea to keep the clientele on their toes. I take it you had a fencing lesson this morning?” she said nodding at his outfit. “Or is this the new fashion trend you’ve decided to start?”

He grinned, “Not sure my father would approve.”

He followed her to the corner where she’d stashed her bag. Marinette took several large gulps of water from her bottle and held it out to him.

“Thank you,” he said taking it with a blush. She bent down to put her joggers back on and was pleased to catch him watching the show from her peripheral vision. His eyes trailed her sweatpants as she slid them up her legs and paused momentarily on her compression shorts-clad derriere before the form-fitting garment disappeared beneath the waistband of the joggers.

She gave him a knowing smile and his blush spread as he averted his gaze and took a long sip of water.

“You been doing this long?” he asked when his throat was clear.

“Almost a year,” Marinette said as she started to unwind her handwraps. “I’m out by myself a lot, commuting from job to job, so I thought this would be a fun way to stay in shape and learn to defend myself.”

He frowned slightly, as though the thought of Marinette having to actually use the techniques she was learning to fend off an attacker upset him. 

“How was your lesson?” she asked innocently, slipping into her hoodie.

“Good! I actually prefer the morning classes…” his attention was momentarily diverted by the deliberately slow way in which Marinette was zipping up the front of her jacket.

“Oh really?” she said, clasping her hands behind her back to stretch her trapezius and shoulder muscles. _And maybe give the girls a little boost._

Marinette hadn’t thought it possible, but Adrien turned an even deeper shade of scarlet.

“W-well,” he spluttered. “Only the serious fencers drag themselves out of bed in the morning. The more experience my partner has, the more I’m pushed during practice.”

“That makes sense,” Marinette said, finally taking mercy on him. She stopped her stretch and took her water bottle from him, slipping it into the side pocket of her gym bag. “I feel the same way in this class.”

They started walking towards the door. “I didn’t realize this was where you did fencing,” she continued. “This gym really does have everything.”

“I was on my way out when I happened to see you through the hallway window,” he said, holding the door open for her. “Are you heading back to your place?”

“Yeah,” Marinette said as they ambled down the corridor to the entrance. “I didn’t want to carry my gym clothes around the rest of the day and risk them starting to smell.”

Now it was her turn to blush, “Please pretend you didn’t hear that. I’m trying to maintain the illusion that I’m a proper lady.”

He laughed, “I think that illusion was shattered when I saw you throw a grown man with 25 kilos of muscle on you. However, I shall promise to continue treating you like a proper lady if it will set your mind at ease.” He winked at her.

 _This is what I get for teasing him earlier,_ she thought forlornly as her face grew hotter.

Caecilia waved from behind the desk when the pair stepped into the entrance lounge. “As promised, I just set out a fresh pot, Marinette,” she called.

“You are the only reason I keep coming here, Caecilia!” Marinette beamed back.

“Don’t let Madames Bodin and Kitchen catch you saying that,” Caecilia said with a smirk.

“I won’t tell if you don’t,” Marinette said as she filled the thermos she always brought to morning workouts. “Oh! Caecilia, this is Adrien; Adrien this is Caecilia.”

“Nice to formally meet you,” Adrien said with a polite nod.

“Ah, yes,” Caecilia nodded. “I’ve checked you in for fencing a few times now. You know Marinette?”

“Just met her two days ago,” he said. “I had no idea she took classes here.”

“Sometimes I forget she does too,” Caecilia said with a laugh. “Marinette so rarely graces us morning shifters with her presence.”

“Hey!” Marinette said defensively. She’d just finished adding ample amounts of sugar and cream to the life-giving substance within her thermos and turned to face the other woman as soon as the lid was secure. “At least wait until I’m gone to talk about me behind my back!”

Caecilia merely grinned at her before turning her attentions back to the stream of club members that had started to flow through the door for the mid-morning round of classes.

“I like her,” Adrien said slyly.

Marinette rolled her eyes at him, “Just wait until you’re on this end of her humor.”

“Reminds me of being back home, at the resort,” he said, a look of nostalgia falling across his features.

Marinette thought about giving his hand a squeeze but decided against it. “Hopefully, Paris starts to feel more like home for you too,” she said instead, trying to be as reassuring as possible.

He nodded before quickly changing the subject, “Do you want a ride?”

Marinette was about to decline when he interrupted her.

“It’s really no trouble, and it will save you the train fare,” he said hurriedly.

Marinette took a second to weigh her options before nodding. “Okay,” she said. “But if you have to deep clean the sweat out of your private car, don’t say I didn’t warn you.”

His face lit up with laughter, “There you go again, being all ladylike.”

“Comes naturally,” she muttered, her cheeks turning the color of her tank top.

“After you, madame,” he said, holding the door for her once more.

“Merci beaucoup, monsieur,” she replied, stepping out into the dawn light.

Adrien’s driver was waiting in front of the building for them. The large man was already out of the driver’s seat and had the rear passenger door open. His passive expression remained unchanged when he saw Marinette approaching with his charge.

“Thank you, G,” Adrien said cheerfully as he slipped in behind Marinette. “We’ll be dropping Miss Dupain-Cheng off first.”

The driver grunted in acknowledgement and shut the door behind them, after ensuring both passengers had safely secured their seatbelts. As soon as the car pulled away from the curb, the privacy screen began to slide up. The sudden isolation emphasized the intimacy of the setting and set Marinette’s heart racing.

“Sooo…” she said trying to break the tension. “Where will we be going this afternoon?”

“Well, I told my father that I needed to upgrade my wardrobe and he’s giving us free rein of the warehouse,” Adrien said, relieved to have a safe topic to focus on for the duration of the ride.

Marinette’s mouth dropped open.

“Don’t worry,” Adrien added hastily. “I told him I would be bringing a personal consultant, so you won’t have to sneak around.”

“I’m sorry,” Marinette finally got out. “I thought I just heard you say that I would be going into _the_ Agreste Fashion Warehouse today.”

Adrien gave her a wry smile, “That’s probably because you have working ears.”

Her brain ceased to function.

“Marinette?” Adrien asked worriedly, waving his hand in front of her face.

Marinette blinked her way back to reality. “I’m cool!” she burst out. “Totally cool. Not freaking out at all.”

Adrien’s face relaxed, “When you said you were a fan of my father’s work, I guess you weren’t kidding. You’re not going to pass out on me when we get there are you?”

Marinette managed a weak smile, “No promises.” Her face grew pale, “Does that mean your father will be joining us?”

“Oh no,” Adrien said shaking his head. “He’s in the workshop all day today: putting the final touches on Madame Bourgeois’ dress for the premiere next weekend and drawing up ideas for his next show.”

The strain in Marinette’s posture immediately released before she shot him a sympathetic glance. “I’m sorry, Adrien.”

He looked taken aback.

She diverted her gaze to the empty seat between them. “It’s just… you mentioned that you never spent much time with him growing up and that Thursday night was the first time in the six months since you moved to Paris that you’ve seen him in person so this seems like a missed opportunity for father-son time.”

Adrien reached out and gently laid his hand on top of hers. Marinette’s eyes shot up to his at the contact.

“Thank you, Marinette,” he said giving her a shy smile. “As much as I’d like to get to know my father, I didn’t have high hopes for reconciling our relationship when I moved here. I came because I wanted to save my grandparents’ resort.”

Marinette turned her hand over and gave his a supportive squeeze. She suddenly noticed how close their faces had gotten and saw his eyes dart momentarily to her lips.

The passenger door abruptly swung open and the pair jumped apart. The driver grunted and nodded his head towards Marinette’s apartment complex.

Marinette, cheeks cherry red, quickly gathered her belongings and stumbled out. “T-thank you for the ride, Adrien,” she stammered. “And you too G,” she continued with a nod towards the silent, intimidating man.

“S-see you at 10?” she said before turning to go.

“Y-yes,” Adrien said, clearing his throat. “10! 10 is perfect! See you at 10!”

Marinette stood on the curb waving until the car disappeared from view. She heard muffled giggles coming from her gym bag.

“So supportive, Tikki,” she whispered sarcastically as she turned to head inside.

Alya was dancing around the kitchen, making breakfast in her pajamas, when Marinette let herself in to their apartment.

“Must have been a good workout,” Alya said, turning to her with a little shimmy as she set a small plate sporting a freshly toasted brioche bun down on the table.

Marinette shut the door with a hip check performed to the beat of the pop song playing over their small radio and pirouetted towards her roommate before pulling her coffee thermos out of her gym bag and setting it on the counter. “What makes you say that?” she asked.

“Your faced is still flushed,” Alya said with a nod towards her cheeks.

Marinette’s flush grew darker. “Yup, it was great!” she began, scuttling towards the safety of her bedroom. “Save me a bun!” she called as she shut the door.

Alya shrugged and finished pouring her espresso.

Tikki sprang out of Marinette’s bag and started rolling around on the bed in a fit of outright laughter. Marinette peeled off her hoodie and damp tank top, throwing the latter at the little god. Tikki extricated herself from the offensive material, and flew over to Marinette’s desk, still hiccupping in mirth.

Marinette stripped her way to the shower (definitely not thinking about the fact that Adrien was likely similarly engaged) and tried to scrub her libido down the drain with the post-workout grunge. Alas, her desire to pin Adrien against a wall was still present when she stepped out and began to towel herself dry. She knew praying for an Akuma attack was in poor taste, but she really needed to talk to a certain black cat before she did something she regretted.

She decided to go practical and professional again today: pairing high-rise, cropped burgundy pants with a tailored white t-shirt and slim-fit grey blazer. She twisted her hair into a braided bun held with decorative pink chopsticks and slipped into a pair of breathable black flats. Since she planned on going all out in the makeup department when they went out that night, she settled on her “everyday face” - a thin layer of skin tint with a pop of color on the lips. Today she went with a light pink gloss to complement her hair accessories.

By the time she stepped back into the kitchen, Alya was done with her brioche. She was typing rapidly on her laptop while sipping the remainder of her espresso near the living room window. The pop music station had been exchanged for instrumental lo-fi hip hop.

“Pajama day?” Marinette called to her as she emptied the contents of her thermos into her favorite mug and popped the last brioche bun into the toaster oven.

“I figured there was no use getting gussied up to go into the office when: (a) I work more efficiently from home anyway and (b) I’d be re-doing my entire look for clubbing tonight,” she said without looking up.

Marinette nodded, taking a slow sip of her coffee. She definitely preferred a Brina cappuccino, but nothing beat free. She glanced over at the clock and her eyes widened.

“Shit!” she said, dumping the coffee back into her thermos and quickly rinsing her mug.

This time Alya actually looked up and smirked, “It never ceases to amaze me that you manage to maintain a livelihood based on making and keeping appointments.”

“Hey! I’ve gotten better about time management since school; present circumstances notwithstanding,” Marinette said as she reached into a cupboard. She nabbed a sleeve of chocolate chip cookies and shoved them into her bag before turning to grab her bun out of the oven. She burned her fingertips in the process and gently tossed the piping hot bread from palm to palm until it was cool enough to handle at which point she shoved it into her mouth. She grabbed her bag and thermos and scrambled out the door with a brief wave goodbye at her roommate.

Alya rolled her eyes and returned to the article she was putting the finishing touches on. At the movement, the little fox buried in the curls cascading over her right shoulder snuggled in closer to her neck.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

Marinette made it to the métro station just as the train doors were sliding shut. She managed to fling herself onboard and fell into the nearest seat panting. _Maybe it’s time I incorporated more cardio into my workout routine._

By the time she got to the correct stop, the bun and coffee had been polished off and she’d somewhat managed to calm her racing heart.

Adrien was waiting for her in the lobby. He was wearing the third, and most casual, outfit she’d styled on Thursday: [slate grey chinos](https://res.cloudinary.com/everlane/image/upload/c_fill,dpr_1.0,f_auto,h_1200,q_auto,w_1200/v1/i/fe2fff93_650f.jpg) with a dark navy cashmere sweater. He’d paired the outfit with plain white sneakers and had styled his hair in a similar side part.

“Hey, stranger,” she said with a shy wave.

He grinned sheepishly, “Long time no see.”

A soft grunt came from behind Marinette and she turned to see G waiting by the door. The pair followed him to the car idling curbside. They resumed their earlier seats and Marinette felt her pulse in her throat when she noticed that the security shade was still up.

“I feel like I told you my entire life’s history on Thursday,” Adrien said. “Tell me about you.”

“Not much to tell,” she mumbled.

“I can’t believe that,” he said with a laugh. “Someone my age, who runs a slew of private businesses, that range from cooking to custom alterations, and can throw a grown man over her back; there’s got to be a story.”

She smiled self-consciously up at him. _Guess it’s now or never._

“Well…” she began. “I grew up in Paris. I’m an only child and my parents own and operate a bakery on the other side of the city. I’ve wanted to be a fashion designer since I was a little girl. I married my collège sweetheart shortly after lycée ended, before he left on tour with his band and I started my courses at ESMOD. After graduation, I worked at Givenchy for a few years but decided to quit in order to force myself to really make a go of creating my own company. In the meantime, my husband was gone for more and more days out of the year and whenever he was home it felt like I was living with a stranger. Four months ago, we agreed to a yearlong trial separation and I moved in with Alya, who has been my best friend since collège. She runs a lifestyle blog and works as a journalist for _Mediapart_. In order to meet rent and save for a storefront, I have a million and one side hustles. I placed a bid on a boutique lease two weeks ago and am waiting to hear whether I won the contract. I visit my parents every Sunday and, in addition to MMA, take aerial arts 2-3 days a week. I love taking long walks around the city for inspiration and carry a sketchbook with me everywhere I go.”

She finally stopped to catch her breath. _Plus, I save the city from Akuma on a sometimes-biweekly basis, but that’s my little secret._

Adrien was gaping at her. “Married?” he finally croaked; the disappointment evident in his eyes. His gaze slid down to her left hand.

“Technically separated!” Marinette reassured him quickly. “I… haven’t worn my ring since we decided on the trial period. We each agreed to treat this time as if we were completely unattached.”

“Ah,” Adrien said, avoiding her eyes. “Seems like a rough deal for any interested third parties.”

She blushed, reminding herself not to read too deeply into his words or sudden inability to look her in the face. 

“The issue hasn’t come up for me,” she said guiltily, thinking of Chat Noir. “And I’m not sure how my husband’s been handling it since we agreed not to communicate over the trial period.”

Adrien finally turned back towards her, just a hint of unconcealed discontent remained in his expression. “You grew up in a bakery?” he said changing the subject.

Marinette nodded vigorously, relieved by the transition. “ _The Tom & Sabine Boulangerie Patisserie_,” she confirmed.

“Oh!” Adrien said, the last of his trepidation dissipating. “They make the best bread I’ve ever tasted!” he continued in excitement.

“You’ve been?” Marinette asked enthusiastically. 

“Well, no,” his face fell slightly. “The grocery courier buys loaves from there. In addition to having no friends in Paris, my father has insisted that I go out as little as possible until the big announcement of my existence gets released.”

Marinette was livid. How could Gabriel Agreste justify such overt mistreatment of his son? What was the point in keeping Adrien so isolated?

“You’re welcome to come with me tomorrow,” she said quickly, trying not to let her anger show. “I’ll use my connections to ensure the paparazzi are kept at bay.”

His face lit up. “I’d love that,” he said grabbing her hands in his. “If it wouldn’t be too much of an imposition on your parents?” he added hastily.

“Of course not!” Marinette said, her anger rapidly replaced by the flutter of butterflies. “I’ll call them this afternoon to let them know. They love it when I bring friends home.”

This time, the pair felt the car come to a stop. They had already released each other by the time the door was pulled open.

The Agreste Fashion Warehouse was located in a nondescript building in the heart of the city. Adrien and Marinette were greeted by a security guard and given electronic visitors passes that would allow them to access the inner sanctum as well as operate the high-tech clothing requisition machine.

They were shown to one of the many fitting rooms surrounding the periphery of the warehouse and given a brief introduction to the system. By scanning their badge, they could pull up a search interface that would allow them to find any article of clothing in the warehouse. With the push of a button, that article of clothing would be sent along a track connected to its hanger directly to the fitting room (similar to the set-up at a dry cleaner).

Once Adrien and Marinette were alone, she pulled a fresh sketchbook, a pencil, double sided stickies, and polaroid camera from her bag. Adrien raised a questioning eyebrow at her.

“I know you could just take photos with your phone, but I prefer the polaroid system,” she said in explanation. “Watch.”

She stepped over to the search tablet and rapidly pulled up five different articles of clothes which were physically present in the room in less than a minute.

“So,” Marinette began as she pulled the first piece from its garment bag and began to dress an available mannequin. “I thought we would start the lesson by talking about general fashion principles. Then, since you will be working at your father’s company, go over his aesthetic. And finish by figuring out your personal style. How does that sound?”

Adrien shot her an amused smile, “Quite the organized lecturer, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

Marinette blushed and chose to ignore his baiting.

“Lesson one: Color,” she said, snapping a photo of the mannequin with the polaroid. She waved the photo around to speed development before securing it to the second page of the sketchbook with some stickies. She handed the open book to Adrien along with the pencil so he could take notes on the page next to the photo.

Over the next few hours, Marinette taught Adrien about color-matching, material characteristics, types of embellishment, the issue of gender-specific fashion, and the basic Agreste aesthetic. They took a few breaks, stretching their legs with a lap or two around the warehouse.

“Now the fun part!” Marinette said clapping her hands. “Your wardrobe makeover!”

Adrien sighed with relief and closed the sketchbook.

“Tell me about your current wardrobe,” she said turning to him.

“Well,” he began. “After my mom died, my grandparents bought most of my clothes. I never gave my appearance too much thought, since I was homeschooled and had a uniform for work. The majority of my wardrobe now is secondhand, from friends or my grandfather.”

“Hmmm,” Marinette hummed, tapping her chin. “What is your favorite outfit?”

Adrien balked. “Probably the one I wore on Thursday?” he said hesitantly. “How would you describe your style?” he asked hastily, trying to switch the focus to her.

Marinette gave him a sympathetic smile, “I know what you’re doing, but I’ll bite.”

“I would say that I am practical with a touch of whimsy,” she said after a short amount of consideration.

Adrien cocked his head at her.

“For example,” she said stepping closer to him and opening up her blazer to show him the inner surface. “I bought this blazer at a thrift store and made modifications to put my personal stamp on it.”

The lining of the blazer was patterned silk: cherry blossoms in traditional Japanese watercolor.

“I replaced the original lining with this gorgeous fabric I found on sale at my favorite outlet store, and then I added some embroidery for an extra subtle embellishment.”

She closed the blazer and brought the cuffs up to eye level to showcase the matching cherry blossoms she had stitched in the location cufflinks would be on a suit.

She dropped her hands, “For special pieces, I’ll do something more overt, like the derby hat I designed for your father’s competition. It was inspired by the Trocadéro pigeons and was covered in faux feathers. However, for my everyday pieces, it’s subtle details.”

He nodded in awed understanding.

She sized him up. “So, for you I’m thinking, nothing too avantgarde. Your personal aesthetic is probably akin to your father’s, somewhat minimalist, functional, and sophisticated; but I think we should try to incorporate more exciting patterns and bold colors, drawing inspiration from your fencer’s garb.” 

Adrien nodded enthusiastically. “That sounds perfect!”

By the end of another hour, they had pulled a substantial number of pieces to be couriered to Adrien’s apartment that Marinette planned to make slight modifications to over the course of the next few weeks.

Suddenly, the pair heard a distant rumble. The next second, there was a loud bang and the wall next to Marinette imploded. She was thrown across the dressing room, skidding to a stop before she hit the adjacent wall. Her ears were ringing, and the wind had been knocked out of her.

Marinette tried to stand, choking on the smoke and concrete dust filling the air. She couldn’t quite get her feet underneath her and fell back into a set of strong arms. She heard Adrien’s muffled voice at her ear.

“Marinette!” he said loudly as he half dragged, half carried her into the warehouse proper.

He grabbed a thick woolen sweater and laid her down on the floor, using the garment as a makeshift pillow.

“Marinette,” he said, grabbing her chin and turning her head to face him. “Marinette, can you hear me?” He sounded like he was speaking underwater.

She coughed but couldn’t speak. Her throat was too dry. She opted for a nod instead and used her hands to briefly imitate a pair of earmuffs to indicate that everything was audible but muted.

“It looks like an Akuma attack,” he explained. “I’m going to make sure no one else is trapped in the rubble and get some help.”

Marinette shook her head vigorously, stopping quickly when her peripheral vision began to darken.

“Don’t worry, Marinette,” he said soothingly. “You’ll be safe here. The Akuma has moved on and the structural integrity of the building appears to be sound.”

 _It’s not me I’m worried about, dummy!_ she wanted to scream, but she was still incapable of speech.

Adrien gave a final visual sweep of the room before ducking out into the hallway.

“Marinette!” Tikki called as she darted out from behind a nearby dress. “Are you alright?”

Marinette pushed herself up and nodded. She swallowed hard trying to clear her throat. “Alright enough,” she said through gritted teeth. “Tikki, spots on!”

Marinette was engulfed in a flash of pink light and her pain immediately lessened. Unfortunately, the tinnitus was as loud as ever, but now that she could move, she was sure she would be able to work through the unexpected handicap.

She ran back into the dressing room and looked out through the gaping hole that had been blown open in the wall. In the distance she saw rubble exploding out from another building and Chat Noir striking his baton down towards the source of the chaos.

Ladybug flung her yo-yo in the direction of the fight and landed at the scene just in time to catch Chat Noir as he was thrown towards a skyscraper.

“Thanks, Bugaboo,” he said with a bow when she set him down on a nearby rooftop.

She returned the gesture with a bow of her own before pointing to her ears. “I was caught up in a blast before I transformed,” she said loudly, not able to adjust her volume appropriately. “My hearing will be a bit of an issue this fight.”

Chat frowned, “I could have handled this with whoever else was available.”

She waved him off, “I was close by and none of you can purify Akuma; I would have needed to transform for that bit anyway.”

“We need to talk to the kwamis about that,” Chat muttered. “You shouldn’t always have to fight.”

“What?” she asked.

Chat shook his head and spoke louder, “Don’t worry about it.” He gestured down to the street below, “The Akuma is a giant spider. According to the TVi News Alert, the akumatized woman was just sentenced to life in prison for being a ‘black widow.’ Her current husband testified against her in court, so she’s really out for his blood now.”

Ladybug nodded in understanding as she caught sight of the humungous arachnid below. The Akuma had the body of a spider but protruding from the end of the cephalothorax was the torso of a woman. She had eight eyes total -- two large jet-black lenses where normal human eyes should be surrounded by three smaller eyes -- and pincers protruding from either side of her wide mouth.

The Akuma had trapped several citizens in sticky webs shot from her spinneret and was causing damage to the buildings that stood in her way, not with some form of explosive, but by the mere force of her body slamming into the old brickwork as she took turns too quickly.

“We need to lure her to a more secluded area!” she yelled at Chat. The Miraculous wielders had learned that her Miraculous Cure not only healed all wounds but also brought civilians back from the dead. However, the return to life was not without psychological sequelae, so the heroes always thought it best to limit the number of fatalities during any given attack.

“The Bois de Vincennes?” he asked, nodding east.

“Perfect!” Ladybug said with a thumbs up.

The pair jumped down in front of the Akuma, cutting off her rampage.

“No need to get your legs in a twist!” Chat Noir yelled up at the fuming spider-woman.

She reared back and spat several rounds of acidic venom at the pair. Chat and Ladybug spun their respective weapons to deflect the shots, before sliding underneath her body to taunt her from behind.

“With that aim, no wonder your husband survived!” Chat yelled.

The Akuma roared, turning to face the heroes with surprising speed considering her size. “You will respect, Arachne!”

She charged at Chat, striking at him with her giant pincers. He jumped at the last instant, slamming his baton into the top of her head and propelling himself backwards in a graceful summersault.

As he continued to lead the akumatized woman towards the park, Ladybug focused on damage control, sweeping citizens out of the way of falling debris and web shots. She also spared a second to send a message to the group chat stating that she and Chat could probably handle this one on their own and no need to transform, unless they were still fighting it in the next 30 minutes. 

Luckily, the park had been vacated as soon as word of the Akuma had spread, so Ladybug no longer needed to dedicate her attention to saving civilians. She was gazing around the park, trying to come up with a plan when the wind was suddenly knocked out of her.

She hadn’t noticed that the Akuma had turned its back on Chat to come after her with more acidic venom. Chat tried to yell at her to duck but she hadn’t heard, so he’d thrown himself at her.

The pair rolled away and came to a stop when they hit a hedge several meters away. Ladybug and Chat clambered quickly to their feet and turned to face the approaching Akuma.

Ladybug threw her yo-yo forward at the woman’s legs. In a matter of seconds, the giant spider was hog-tied and screaming to be released.

“Any idea where the Akuma is?” Ladybug called over to Chat.

She watched in horror as he slumped to his knees, hand covering a nasty looking wound on his left shoulder.

“Chat!” she screamed running towards him. “I’m so sorry,” she said as she reached him. She gently tugged his hand away from his shoulder and recoiled slightly.

A splash of the venom must have hit him when he’d tackled her. Part of his suit had melted into the skin beneath, and the raw, bloody mess almost took her breath away.

“Just a _flesh_ wound,” he grimaced up at her, sweat dusting his forehead.

“Stupid, cat,” she chided him gently, pressing her hand to the wound. A small pink light shone from her fingertips. She hadn’t learned to heal well enough to fix his shoulder completely, but she was able to stop the worst of the oozing and pain.

“Thanks, LB,” he said, accepting her help up. He gave his shoulder a test rotation and grimaced again but picked up his baton regardless.

“I think the Akuma is in a broach she’s got pinned to her chest,” he said, pointing at his own to demonstrate the location.

The distraction of Chat’s injury had given the akumatized woman time to free herself. Ladybug retracted her yo-yo and called, “Lucky Charm!”

There was a flash of pink light and a large mirror fell out of the air. Ladybug caught it with a soft “oof”; it was heavier than it looked.

The arachnid began to charge at them as Ladybug scanned her surroundings for inspiration. The mirror, Chat’s baton, and the monster’s spinneret lit up.

“How’s your batting average?” she asked Chat, gesturing at the spider’s rear end.

He smirked at her, “I’d say I’m an A+ pinch-er hitter.”

“You’re awful,” she laughed. “Break!”

He dove right, causing the spider-woman to turn too quickly after him. As she skidded around, Ladybug slid underneath her. As soon as Ladybug emerged, the woman sent webbing shooting out at the heroine. Ladybug deflected the sticky silk ball with the mirror and Chat leapt up and over the creature’s outstretched mouth, swinging his baton at the silk ball as he crossed paths with it in the air. The webbing slammed down into the woman’s pincered face and she writhed about, pulling futilely at the taut webbing.

Chat landed on the ground beside Ladybug, doing a barrel roll to safely dissipate some of his momentum.

“Now for the K.O.,” she said turning to him.

“Cataclysm!” he yelled obediently. His hand was immediately engulfed in twisting black magic. He slammed the palm of his hand on the ground, aiming the destructive forces at the akumatized woman. The ground beneath her legs cracked and split, sending her tumbling down and pinning her limbs beneath rubble.

Ladybug strode up to the woman’s torso and snatched the bright gold broach pinned to her chest. She threw it on the ground and stomped violently down on it. The broach cracked and out burst a dark purple butterfly.

Ladybug swung her yo-yo around and captured the insect. “Bye-bye, little butterfly!” she called as she released the purified Akuma a moment later.

She reached underneath the mirror and used her legs to heave it into the air, “Miraculous Ladybug!”

The mirror burst into a million magical ladybugs which swarmed across the city, righting all the damage the Akuma had caused. She turned to look at Chat and was disproportionately relieved to see the swarm encircle his shoulder before they disappeared in another burst of pink light. The ringing in her ears had also been silenced.

They smiled at each other then faltered. Instead of a triumphant fist bump, their victory was followed by an uncomfortable silence.

“I have to go check on my friend!” Chat said abruptly, preparing to bound off. “She was hurt when one of the buildings was hit at the beginning of the attack. I can drop the victim back off at the courthouse on my way.”

“ _She_?” Ladybug asked quietly. She could feel her heart grow numb with shock.

He nodded, giving her a puzzled look.

“Were you on a date?” Ladybug asked, swallowing down the sudden tightness in her throat.

“Not officially,” he said blushing. “I really like her, but I don’t know if she feels the same way, and it sounds like she might not be in the best place to start something new…”

“I see…” Ladybug said awkwardly. _So much for telling him I’m a free agent now._

Ladybug had been fighting Akuma with the variable aid of other Miraculous wielders since the attacks began a year ago. Tikki told her that the Ladybug was meant to work with the Black Cat Miraculous, but a suitable candidate hadn’t been found.

It wasn’t until six or so months ago that Chat Noir showed up at the scene of an attack. Maybe it was the Miraculous, but the pair felt an instant connection. They worked seamlessly together and found their bodies naturally drawn towards each other on and off the battlefield. She’d resisted as best she could, but the mixed signals must have been confusing for him.

It wasn't long before he asked her to meet him on the Eiffel Tower for a date and she’d had to break the news to him that she was married. His disappointment was like a physical punch to the chest. A few weeks later Marinette asked her husband for a divorce, and he negotiated her down to a trial separation.

Chat Noir had distanced himself since the rejection -- no longer calling her “My Lady,” or engaging in grand gestures such as kissing the back of her hand; even their post-battle fist bumps had fallen by the wayside -- so she hadn’t found the right moment to tell him that she was free to meet him for that date. And now it appeared to be too late.

“That’s great!” she finished with as genuine a smile as she could muster when it felt like her heart was being squeezed by a giant fist. “Good luck!”

“Thank you?” he said, still eyeing her curiously. “Until next time, LB,” he gave her a salute and bounded off, scooping up the unconscious woman that had been Arachne.

Ladybug stared forlornly after him until the beep of her Miraculous made her jump.

 _I have to get back before Adrien comes looking for me,_ she swung as fast she could back to the Agreste Warehouse.

She landed in a nearby alley and detransformed. She’d lost track of her purse when the wall caved in, so Tikki dove into the inner pocket of her blazer.

Luckily, the visitor badge had been clipped to her waistband, so she used it to get back inside the building, scanning herself through the security turnstile since the staff had vacated the premises during the attack and had yet to return. She made her way back to the fitting room she’d been using with Adrien and waited with bated breath.

A few minutes later, he came bursting into the room. Despite her inner turmoil, she gave him a reassuring smile. His face relaxed instantly as he strode over to her. He cupped her face in his hands, gently brushing an errant strand of hair out of her eyes. His touch managed to lessen the pressure in her chest.

“I’m so glad you’re safe,” he murmured.

She reached up to give his hand a soothing squeeze. “Ditto,” she said.

“I think that was enough excitement for the afternoon. Want to go back to my place for lunch?”

She nodded. They broke apart so she could gather up her bag and other supplies and then walked out of the building hand in hand.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all the kudos and comments! I'm glad so many of you are enjoying the story.
> 
> Next chapter: The Night Out coming to a screen near you on 12/29


	4. The Night Out

_What was I thinking?_ Marinette whined as she scanned her closet for a suitable outfit.

“That you really, really like this guy and want to spend more time with him even if that means going out on a Saturday night instead of binge-watching _Project Runway_ in your sweatpants?” Tikki replied through her mouth full of chocolate chips.

“Did I say that out loud?” Marinette asked, turning to the kwami with wide eyes.

“No,” Tikki giggled. “It was just very obvious what you were thinking from the way you were frowning at your wardrobe.”

Marinette rolled her eyes as she returned to her closet. Her face lit up when she caught site of a [red mini skirt and off shoulder black crop top](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/89/86/13/8986131b18336fb164f6d87d5b252994.jpg) shoved at the very end of the rack.

She’d ended up hanging out with Adrien until past dinnertime. When they got to his flat after the attack, they cooked lunch together; eating out on the balcony and making up stories about the people they could see down below. Afterward, they got drinks at a local café and took a stroll in a park near the apartment. When the sun started to set, they returned, and Adrien gave her a proper tour of the left side of the flat, including the library and paintings. By that point it was time for dinner. Marinette didn’t snap back to reality until Alya texted in the middle of the meal to ask if she was going to leave Adrien’s bed for long enough to go dancing. She’d almost choked on her ratatouille. And now said boy was sitting in her living room, looking hot as hell in black chinos and a black button-up shirt with the sleeves rolled up to reveal lime green lining.

 _Just my luck he would pick an outfit reminiscent of Chat Noir,_ Marinette thought as she changed, heart thumping painfully at the thought of her partner. Catching sight of herself in the mirror, she mentally facepalmed. _And I look like slutty Ladybug without the spots. Whatever, I do not want to spend another hour looking for a different outfit._

She pulled her makeup drawer out of her vanity and prepared to head to the living room.

“Need anything, Tikki?” she asked.

“All good!” the kwami replied with a thumbs up, mouth packed with cookie. “Remember to call your parents and let them know you’re bringing a guest tomorrow!”

“Thanks for the reminder, Tikki. What would I do without you?”

“Not transform into a magical superhero AND forget to call your parents?” Tikki said with a smile before popping another cookie into her mouth.

Marinette giggled and ducked out of the room, quickly shutting the door behind her. Adrien was standing by the living room window and turned when he heard her step out. The look he gave her made any remaining hesitancy regarding her outfit immediately disappear.

“Shots!” Alya called suddenly from the kitchen.

Marinette jumped but managed not to drop the drawer she was carrying. She walked over to the dining table upon half of which Alya had set up a round of tequila shots including lime wedges and a little bowl of salt. She slid the drawer onto the end of the table that hadn’t been turned into a makeshift bar. Adrien joined them in the kitchen a moment later.

Alya was already dolled up for that evening’s activities; rocking [black shorts and a loose fit orange and white crop top](http://glossyu.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/06/cluboutfitsshorts1-2.jpg). Her wavy hair was down, and she had chosen to showcase her eyes with multi-colored, [winged eye shadow](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=v1lqG_kdhHU) with white highlights and pointed liner on the inner corner of her eyes. Needless to say, she’d opted for contacts for the night. She was sans her heels for the moment since there was no reason to wear them for longer than absolutely necessary.

 _Seems like we have an unintentional Miraculous theme going on,_ Marinette thought when she saw Adrien and Alya standing next to each other. _Especially with Alya wearing that necklace…_

Her train of thought was interrupted when Alya picked up two of the shots and handed one to Adrien. Marinette grimaced when her roommate offered the other to her.

“Don't make that face at me, girl,” Alya said forcing it into Marinette’s hand. “You weren’t here, and house rules clearly state that only those leaseholders present in the apartment have a say in the choice of pre-gaming cocktail.”

Marinette sighed as she bent her head to lick and salt the back of her hand in resignation. She noticed Adrien’s not so subtle stare as her tongue flicked out to slide across her skin, and barely caught herself in time to stop from winking at him.

“Tchin Tchin!” Alya shouted, lifting her shot glass.

Adrien and Marinette clinked their glasses against hers and echoed her before all three licked the salt off their hands, downed their tequila, and bit into their lime wedges. It was times like these that Marinette was thankful the Miraculous instantly sobered the wielders. While it was rare for two Akuma attacks to happen in a single day, fighting one while inebriated would be questionable and always having to remain sober would have robbed her of some great experiences.

“Excellent,” Alya said as she set her glass down. “Adrien, please pour another round while I get to work on Miss Mari.”

“Lemme just phone my parents really quick,” Marinette said, pulling her phone out of a pocket she’d sewn into the mini skirt when she brought it home from the thrift store, and hitting the first number on her speed dial. She put it on speaker.

“Allô, maman!” she said cheerily into the phone when Sabine picked up.

“Allô, Madame Cheng!” Alya called from her chair.

“Allô, girls!” Sabine responded. They heard her cover the mouthpiece and call, “Tom! The girls are on the line!”

A few moments later Tom’s voice came over the speaker, “Allô, girls!”

“Allô!” they called simultaneously.

“Can’t talk for too long,” Marinette said as she sat down in one of the kitchen chairs and threw her plait over her shoulder to give Alya unencumbered access to the canvas of her face. “Just wanted to let you know that I’m bringing a friend to dinner on Sunday.”

“Make that three friends,” Alya called.

Marinette shot her a questioning look. “Who’s the third?”

“It’s a surprise,” Alya winked.

“Oh! I love surprises!” cried Sabine.

“Does that mean you don’t want to meet the person I was originally calling about,” Marinette said with a smile.

“Definitely not!” Sabine said emphatically.

Marinette laughed. “I met him on a catering job. He’s new to Paris and has eaten your food but never been to the bakery so I invited him over. Adrien, say _Hi._ ”

“Bounjour, Monsieur Dupain and Madame Cheng,” he said shyly towards the phone.

“Bonjour, Adrien!” Tom and Sabine singsonged back.

“Any dietary restrictions?” Tom asked.

“No,” Adrien replied. “Thank you for asking. I am very much looking forward to meeting you both on Sunday and seeing the bakery in person. Your bread is the best I’ve ever tasted!”

“Flattery will get you everywhere, son,” Tom said. They could all hear the grin in his voice.

“We are very much looking forward to meeting you in person too!” Sabine said gleefully. “As we always say, the more the merrier!”

“Okay, we have to go!” Marinette called. “Love you, maman! Love you, papa!”

“Salut!” Alya and Adrien called.

“Love you! Salut!” Tom and Sabine responded before Marinette disconnected the call and put her phone back in her pocket.

“Your parents are adorable,” Alya said as she considered Marinette, deciding which feature she would highlight makeup-wise. After a few seconds, she began pawing through Marinette’s drawer. “Side note: I have also decided that I get to choose the drinking game.”

Marinette groaned.

“Just for that, we’re playing _Truth or Drink_ ,” Alya said with a smirk.

Marinette groaned even louder.

“You’re lucky you’re too pretty for me to fuck up your face,” Alya said, waving an eyelash curler at her in a threatening manner.

“I thought of a question!” Adrien cried triumphantly as he picked up the tequila bottle to refill the shot glasses per Alya’s earlier command.

“See,” Alya said gesturing to him. “At least someone at this party is a team player.”

“What’s the [most embarrassing TV show that you watch](https://www.frenchyet.com/france-reality-tv/)?” Adrien asked.

Alya let out a snort as she walked towards Marinette with her chosen supplies in hand.

“So many to choose from…” she muttered as she began rubbing primer onto Marinette’s face. “I’m going to have to go with… _Les Ch’tis_.”

“No!” Marinette and Adrien said simultaneously.

“Oui,” Alya grinned. “My favorite season was when they went to Hollywood.”

“No wonder you don’t want to share Netflix accounts with me,” Marinette said with a laugh.

“But now that the secret is out…” Alya replied with a wink.

“I assume _Project Runway_ doesn’t count?” Marinette asked.

Adrien and Alya shook their heads with faux solemnity. 

Marinette looked down and mumbled something.

“I’m sorry,” Adrien said leaning forward. “I didn’t quite catch that.”

Marinette mumbled a little louder.

“Girl, I’m right in front of you and have no idea what you’re saying,” Alya said as she put the finishing touches on Marinette’s foundation.

“ _Le Bachelor_!” Marinette shouted; the hint of a blush still visible beneath her makeup.

Alya and Adrien roared with laughter.

“I’m going to be too drunk to leave the apartment,” Marinette moaned. If she got this embarrassed over a question about TV shows, no way was she going to survive what Alya had planned.

“If it makes you feel any better, mine is _Danse avec les stars_ ,” Adrien said once the laughter had subsided.

“Not really,” Marinette said with a snort. “You would watch the classiest form of reality TV as a guilty pleasure.”

“What can I say?” he shrugged. “My grandmother raised a gentleman.”

“Oh yeah?” Alya said nonchalantly as she got started on Marinette’s eyes. “Where’s the most inappropriate place you’ve ever masturbated?”

Adrien had just raised a glass of water to his lips and immediately began to choke.

Marinette knew she would have to pick and choose which questions she drank for carefully. This was only the tip of the Alya iceberg.

“A hot tub at a hotel,” Marinette said quickly while Adrien was still struggling to breathe. Her answer did not help him recover faster.

“Deets!” Alya said cheerfully.

“I am too sober for such follow-up demands,” Marinette replied.

“If you don’t spill, our imaginations are just going to run wild,” Alya said with a knowing grin.

Adrien did not bother to deny this fact, even though his coughing fit had ended.

Marinette wanted to squirm in her seat, but Alya had just started to apply her eyeliner so there was no escape. At least she had to keep her eyes closed for the next few minutes and wouldn’t have to watch Adrien’s expression.

“I was maybe 13 or 14 and trying to warm-up after a dip in the pool. One of the jets had been knocked out of position and ended up… hitting all the right places,” she rambled at top speed. “That was the day I learned what an orgasm felt like.”

She realized that the last little bit of commentary should have been spoken by her inner voice only and shut her mouth tight to prevent further word vomit from spilling forth. Alya finished her eyeliner in time for her to see that Adrien had turned bright red.

“You poor girl,” Alya said, trying to stifle her laughter. “Sex must have been such a disappointment in comparison.”

Marinette couldn’t help but join her in laughter despite her mortification.

“Santé,” Adrien murmured behind them as he took a shot.

Alya raised her eyebrow at him, “That bad, huh?”

“I am also too sober for this conversation,” he said as the flush on his face deepened. He was having a hard time meeting their eyes.

“The gym,” Alya said matter-of-factly, putting the finishing touches on Marinette’s mascara. “They have this one shower setting that I am a huge fan of.”

“Mercy,” Adrien wheezed. “Next question, Mari. Please!”

“What’s the most embarrassing thing you’ve ever done while drunk?” Marinette asked, trying to steer the conversation to a less dangerous topic while she had the chance.

Alya hummed as she began to apply finishing and setting powder to Marinette’s face. “I have to go with that night two years ago when I kicked that performer off of his platform because I decided that my pole dancing skills were better than his.”

Marinette nodded in agreement. “I remember that! The owner blacklisted us from all of his clubs.”

“Hold up,” Adrien said. “Did that video go viral?”

“It did!” Alya proclaimed. “I was YouTube famous for like a week. It really boosted the traffic on my blog. Most of the people who watched the video agreed with me: I was the better dancer.”

Adrien looked like he was contemplating another shot.

“Come on,” Alya wheedled. “It can’t be that bad. Also, just imagine the other questions I’m going to be asking. You’re already two drinks in and the night has barely begun.”

He sighed but conceded. “I had sex with my best friend,” he said, suddenly becoming very interested in the contents of Marinette’s makeup drawer.

Alya froze, only halfway done with Marinette’s lipstick, and turned towards him, an incredulous look on her face.

“Man or woman?” she asked, looking him up and down.

“Woman,” Adrien said, still not looking at the pair of women across from him.

“And…?” Alya pressed.

Now it was his turn to ramble. “I was homeschooled so the only friends I had growing up were the kids who would come to the resort. We had a lot of consistent customers; most of the families that came to stay would spend a week or two there every year. There was this girl whose family would come annually for the entire summer, so we grew pretty close. I threw her a surprise party on the last day of her last summer, she’d graduated from lycée and didn’t know if she’d ever be coming back to the resort, and we both got maudlin, and one thing led to another, and next thing I knew I woke up without my virginity.

“It was so awkward!” he flinched, lost in the memory of the morning after. “She’d always kinda had a crush on me but I’d only ever seen her as a friend, so the final goodbye was rather strained, and things haven’t been the same since. We text every now and then but haven’t met up in person in years.”

Alya turned back to finish Marinette’s lips. “You win. That _is_ embarrassing. At least my stunt carried a silver lining. You have earned the right to change the subject, Marinette can answer two questions after I finish working on her lips.”

“What’s the longest you’ve gone without showering?” Adrien said wanting to move far away from the topic of sex.

Alya laughed. “As you may have figured out from my answer to the masturbation question, I use baths and showers to unwind. I’ve never gone more than a day without a warm water cleanse.”

“Good god, woman! Do you masturbate that frequently?” Adrien let out before he could stop himself. So much for getting away from the topic of sex.

Alya laughed even harder as she capped the all-day liquid lipstick she’d finally finished applying. “No way! I think my clit would have fallen off years ago. I just find the warm water itself relaxing…

“Ta da!” she added, taking a step back so Adrien could fully see the finished product. “What do you think, blondie, hair up or down?”

Alya had decided to go with a more subtle, but still striking, slightly winged, smoky eye and [bold red lips](http://www.bebeautyps.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/04/Dark-Red-Lips-Holiday-Makeup-Tutorial.jpg). Adrien’s eyes widened as he scanned Marinette’s face.

“D-down?” he stammered.

“Your wish is my command!” Alya said, smoothly moving behind Marinette, sliding the hair tie out, and giving her hair a gentle tousle to release it from its braid. Marinette’s normally razor straight hair had a slight wave to it from being plaited for the whole day.

Adrien took a sharp intake of breath and Alya mentally patted herself on the back.

“You may speak now, Miss Mari,” Alya said with a smile.

Marinette looked shyly up at Adrien before standing to put away her makeup. “One, that time I got up on the main stage at the karaoke bar and sang _La Vie en Rose_ in front of a full room.”

“That was brilliant!” Alya said.

“Video?” Adrien asked eagerly.

“A private one I keep for blackmail purposes which I may be willing to share for the right price,” Alya laughed.

“Don’t you dare!” Marinette called as she carried her drawer back to her room. Her disembodied voice continued from the room. “Two, seven days. Oooo, this looks amazing, Alya!”

“Trying to slip that answer in, huh?” Alya laughed.

Adrien looked astounded. “Particular reason for the prolonged period?”

When Marinette stepped back out of her room, his breath caught in his throat again.

“ESMOD finals week,” she said as she walked back to the table and took her seat. Alya slid a glass of water over to her.

“I guess I’m not one to talk,” Adrien said thoughtfully. “I’ve gone maybe a month without a proper shower; just many sponge baths on the trail.”

Both girls gawped at him.

“For my twenty-first birthday, I decided to backpack the [Grande Randonnée 52](http://www.grfive.com/general/Gr5_description.htm),” he laughed. “It took a little over three months and I didn’t stay in formal accommodations very often during that time.”

“Impressive,” Alya gave him a nod of approval.

“Seriously,” Marinette agreed, looking at him in awe. “Do you still hike?”

He nodded enthusiastically. “I’ve done the Tour du Mont-Blanc a few times, most recently after the renovations were done on my place.”

 _Interesting,_ Marinette thought with a frown, looking at Adrien’s ring. _Chat was out of town on a trip for two weeks a few months ago…_

“What was the last thing you masturbated to?” Alya completely disrupted her trail of thought.

Marinette and Adrien simultaneously reached for a shot, blushing fiercely. Alya almost fell out of her chair from laughing so hard.

“Tchin Tchin,” they clinked glasses, looking each other in the eye for the minimum amount of time necessary to avoid seven years of bad sex.

“Carapace,” Alya said once she was sure her comrades had finished swallowing.

“What?!” Marinette shrieked as Adrien refilled the glasses.

Alya reached across the table and picked up her shot glass, which had sat still for too long.

“Yes!” she cackled happily. “A toast to his magnificent backside!” She downed the shot and set the glass back for Adrien to refill.

Marinette raised an eyebrow at her. She was beginning to feel the effects of the alcohol.

“I don’t want to fall too far behind you guys,” Alya smirked at her. “Drinks at the club are expensive and I already owe you one.”

Adrien looked up at them sheepishly. “I may have reserved a table and pre-ordered bottle service,” he said.

Alya clapped her hands together and whooped, “You sir, are my new favorite human.”

He bowed slightly; cheeks stained pink. “You mentioned it would be a sizeable group so I thought it would be nice to have a table.” He took a large gulp of water before adding quickly, “I also like to secretly stick it to my father by spending his money on gifts for other people.”

“Ah!” Marinette exclaimed. “This explains why my pay for Thursday included a 100% tip.”

He gave her a toothy grin. “I was half expecting you to try and sneak some of that back to me today.”

“Then you haven’t looked in your wallet,” she said with a sly smile, taking a sip of water.

Adrien’s eyes widened as he reached into his pocket and drew out said wallet. He quickly tallied the bills within and rolled his eyes at her before removing several of them. “Well played, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he said holding the small stack out to her.

She continued to sip her water, ignoring the proffered euros.

Alya scoffed and grabbed them before proceeding to run into Marinette’s room and slamming the door behind her.

“Hey!” Marinette cried as she bolted up and futilely jiggled the door handle.

“When a rich man offers you revenge tips, you take them!” came Alya’s muffled yell. “Don’t worry Adrien, I’ll tell her where I’ve hidden the money tomorrow. That way I can ensure she deposits them with the rest of this week’s earnings at the ATM on the way to her parent’s.”

Marinette sighed and returned to the table in defeat. Standing had confirmed her suspicions; tipsiness was upon her.

“How long has your longest dry spell been?” she yelled at the closed door.

Alya opened it with a flourish. “One week,” she said, striding back to the table. Before Adrien could make any sounds of surprise (and the fact that Alya still possessed the ability to shock him at this point delighted both girls) she added, “As you may have guessed, I have a ravenous sex drive.”

Adrien took a second to think about his answer. “It’s been… one year,” he finally said, then blushed. “I mean, one year. My longest dry spell was one year.”

Alya placed a sympathetic hand on his shoulder. “You poor, poor man,” she said, patting him a few times. She looked at Marinette out of the corner of her eyes, “Perhaps we can help you out with that. There should be plenty of candidates at the club.”

Marinette bristled and burst out, “27 months, 3 weeks, and four days!”

For the first time all evening, Alya was shocked. “But…”

“Let’s see,” Marinette began ticking off her fingers. “Gone on tour, then isolated himself to work on his new album, then was recording said album, then back on tour, I asked for the divorce when he came home, and there hasn’t been anyone else since,” she finished, dropping her hand. 

“No hot break-up sex?!” Alya was aghast.

Marinette laid her arms on the table and then buried her face in them. “Nooooo,” came her muffled whine.

Alya nudged one of the shot glasses against her elbow, “We need to lower your inhibitions ASAP.”

Marinette raised her head with a laugh. “Careful,” she said, lifting the glass in a toast which the other two joined her in. “At my current level of horniness, drunk Marinette may assault an innocent bystander if no willing target is acquired.”

“I volunteer as tribute,” Adrien murmured before downing his shot.

“What was that?” Alya asked with a shrewd smile as she wiped the lime juice from her lips and Marinette’s scarlet cheeks burned through her foundation.

“I did not just say that out loud,” it was Adrien’s turn to look mortified.

“Should I leave the room?” Alya looked back and forth between the pair, suggestively waggling her eyebrows.

Luckily, there came a sudden pounding on the door.

“Coming!” Marinette scurried over, the relief for the interruption evident on her face.

A barrage of happy cries burst out as a seeming stampede of girls flooded the apartment.

“Alix!” Marinette squealed as she squeezed a short, orange-haired woman. “I didn’t know you were back in Paris!”

“Just landed a few hours ago!” the girl said, hugging her back just as enthusiastically. “Kim texted me; he’s going to meet us there with Max and Ivan.”

“Damn,” Alya said beaming. “Tonight’s going to be a certifiable school reunion!”

“Ooh, I hope not,” said a barely taller, slightly chubby girl with multi-colored dreadlocks. “I don’t fancy seeing Chloé or Lila tonight.”

“You and me both, Mylène,” Marinette said rolling her eyes.

“Welcome shots!” Alya called, ushering the newcomers to the kitchen table where she had prepared a round for everyone except Marinette who she handed a glass of water to. She knew her roommate’s alcohol tolerance almost as well as her own and wanted the smaller girl to make it through the night safely.

Before everyone downed their tequila, Alya nodded to Adrien who had been sitting quietly overwhelmed during the shrieked greetings. “Girls, this is Adrien Graham de Vanily. He moved to Paris a couple of months ago. Marinette did a catering job for him, then wormed her way into being his personal stylist, and he has now been adopted into the friend circle.

“Adrien, these are the girls,” she continued, opening the circle up for introductions.

“Rose Lavillant,” said the slender woman with enormous periwinkle eyes and a blonde pixie cut standing to Alya’s right.

“Juleka Couffaine,” nodded the taller girl standing behind her. She was pale with striking copper-eyes and shoulder-length black hair the ends of which were dyed violet.

“Mylène Haprèle,” waved the dreadlocked woman.

“Alix Kubdel,” said the girl Marinette had greeted so eagerly.

“ _The_ Alix Kubdel?” Adrien asked, staring at her in sudden recognition.

Alix smirked up at him.

Adrien let out a noise like he’d been punched in the gut and started gushing, “I saw you compete in the World Roller Games two years ago and have watched the entirety of your YouTube archive at least five times. I can’t believe I’m about to take a tequila shot with _the_ Alix Kubdel!”

She laughed and turned to Marinette with a thumbs up. “I like this one!”

Marinette blushed and then caught sight of Juleka’s face. She suddenly became extremely focused on her glass of water.

“Santé!” Alya led the cheers as everyone with a shot clinked glasses.

“Santé!” came the answering cry before salt was licked and tequila was thrown back.

Rose gave Marinette a knowing look as she bit into her lime. “Did Alya get to choose the pre-gaming festivities?” she asked, eyeing Marinette’s water glass.

Marinette smiled at her. “How ever did you guess? As a matter of fact, I am three shots into a game of _Truth or Drink_.”

Even Juleka cracked a smile at that. “Oh Alya, you’re terrible!”

“Do we get a recap?” Alix asked with a grin.

“Alas,” Alya sighed, shaking her head. “House rules prohibit a detailed recap. If y’all had gotten here early like I suggested…”

Alix stuck her tongue out at the completely unapologetic brunette.

“But,” Alya said with an air of benevolence. “We have time for a final question.”

Marinette choked on her water and looked at the clock frantically. “Not if we want to catch the next train,” she said hurriedly.

“Oh,” Alya said, picking up the bottle of tequila innocently. “Didn’t I mention that Adrien offered us the use of his private car while you were changing?”

Marinette glared at Adrien.

He raised his hands to ward off the anger at his unwitting betrayal. “I am as against this as you are,” he consoled her.

“What was the worst sex you ever had?” Alya asked decisively.

“I really think we should just get going…” Marinette started at the same time.

Alya pointed a finger at her roommate in triumph. “House rules!” she declared. “Once a question hath been spoken, the round doth not end until all have answered or imbibed.”

“Damn you and your House Rules,” Marinette muttered darkly.

“I don’t seem to remember you minding when you agreed to sign onto the lease four months ago,” Alya said coolly.

Juleka shot Marinette a look that clearly stated, “Please for the love of all that is holy just take the shot,” but Marinette knew she couldn't handle a fourth drink in such a short time span. Plus, her current level of tipsiness was enough not to care too much about oversharing.

Alya, who already knew which story Marinette was about to tell, looked back and forth between the two girls with a mischievous grin.

“The first time I had sex,” Marinette began quickly as Juleka covered her ears and began to sing quietly to herself. “He accidentally stuck his dick in the wrong hole.”

Rose and Mylène clapped their hands over their mouths; Alix actually fell to the floor, crying with laughter; and Adrien dropped numbly back into his seat.

“Happy, Alya?” Marinette was giving her best friend the evil eye.

“It’s fine,” Alya said with a grin. “You still love me.”

Marinette buried her bright red face in her hands.

Juleka uncovered her ears. “Shot please,” she said, holding one of the empty glasses out towards Alya. Rose turned to stare at her and she flushed.

Alix, who was still laughing, gestured towards her empty glass, indicating that Alya should also fill it. “I can't top that and also I want to be tipsy by the time we reach the club.”

Mylène and Rose looked at each other and shrugged before lifting up their glasses for a refill as well.

“Re-using my most embarrassing thing while drunk story,” Adrien said.

“That seems unfair seeing as we don’t know the details,” Alix scoffed as she pulled herself up off the ground.

“House rules!” Alya chirruped.

Alix rolled her eyes and clinked glasses with Mylène, Rose, and Juleka. “Tchin Tchin!” they shouted.

Alya walked over to the door and started to put on a pair of strappy black heels. “I met this one guy on Tinder who came as I was rolling on the condom,” she said.

“And on that lovely note, we finally end this godforsaken game,” Marinette said, joining her by the door and pulling on a somewhat similar pair of heels.

Alix eyed the mostly empty bottle of tequila forlornly.

“If you like gin, I keep the makings of a mean martini or G&T in the car,” Adrien said to her.

“Did I ever tell you that I like this one?” Alix fist pumped as the group began the parade to the car waiting on the curb outside.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

Three gin and tonics later (one for Alix, one for Rose and Juleka, and one for Alya and Mylène), they pulled up to _La Bibliothèque_. Or what Google Maps had told G was _La Bibliothèque_. There was no sign on the outside of the building and no line to indicate that they had arrived at one of the most popular nightclubs in Paris. No sound emanated from the building at all; not even the rhythmic thumping of an electronic baseline.

G opened the door and the, now appropriately tipsy, crew tumbled out.

“Follow me,” Alya called, leading the group down a small side alley. Halfway down the alley, they found a black wooden door, lit with a single overhanging bulb.

Alya gave a complicated serious of knocks and the door swung open a fraction.

“Mon fils marche depuis qu’il a 4 mois,” came a voice from the darkness within.

“Eh bien, il doit être loin maintenant!” Alya replied.

The door swung the rest of the way open to reveal a tough-looking woman wearing a white button up shirt, pinstripe vest, fedora, and black slacks a la the 1920s. She stepped back and waved them over to a podium where a woman in a [white and gold 20s fringe dress](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/07/37/85/073785ef12817eab0de924752aba97b8.jpg) was smiling.

As they walked over to the hostess, they caught sight of two corridors behind her. Both led to elevators with old-fashioned exteriors, like the one in Adrien’s building; however, one corridor was packed with all the club goers they’d expected to see lined up outside and the other was seemingly empty.

“Table for Graham de Vanily,” Adrien said to her.

Her eyes lit up in recognition without checking the leather-bound ledger in front of her. “Magnifique! I’ll just need to confirm your identity and swipe your card; then Bridgette will show you to your table.” At her words, another woman, this one wearing a [silver and black fringe dress](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/2714/9310/products/Unique_Vintage_1920s_Deco_Silver_Black_Veronique_Fringe_Flapper_Dress_5_1024x1024.jpg?v=1516358407), emerged from the shadows of the “empty” corridor.

Adrien held up his ID and handed over a credit card. She glanced briefly at his ID before nodding and quickly sliding his card through a machine not visible within the podium. She handed it back to him and gestured towards Bridgette.

The other woman bowed towards them before turning down the corridor and heading towards the elevator.

“Oh!” Adrien said turning back to the hostess. “There are three more joining our party. When…” he looked at Alix expectantly.

“Ivan Bruel, Lê Chiến Kim, and Max Kanté,” Alix chimed.

“Arrive,” Adrien continued. “Can you please have them shown to our table as well?”

“Yes, sir,” the hostess nodded with a smile.

“Thank you!” the group said in unison as they hurried to follow Bridgette.

Bridgette was waiting for them in the elevator, one hand poised between the doors to keep them open. As soon as Mylène was in, Bridgette removed her hand and the door slid shut. Instead of going up, the elevator began to descend and a few moments later, Bridgette was pulling open the outer brass door.

The group stepped out onto a balcony that spanned the circumference of a huge underground room. There were two more rungs of balconies below, the last of which was on the same level as the dance floor. At the far end of each balcony was a bar; each with a giant ice sculpture on display behind the counter. There were tables evenly spaced around all three balconies and servers wearing 20s attire gliding about each level. The walls were lined with wooden bookshelves bedecked with tattered-looking leather bound books.

The DJ was at the front of the dance floor, on a stage that was designed to look like a ginormous version of a head librarian’s desk. The music was surprisingly loud considering that they hadn’t heard a single note until the elevator opened out onto the balcony. Colorful lights were pulsing in time to the beat and bouncing off a huge jeweled chandelier hanging precariously above the dancers down below.

The whole party gazed around the club in wide-eyed captivation.

Bridgette chuckled. “I love watching first timers. Is everyone alright with stairs? Your table is actually on the first floor, but I thought you’d enjoy seeing the view from up here first.”

Everyone nodded, still in shock from the extravagance surrounding them.

Bridgette laughed and led them down a spiraling metal staircase to the bottom floor, then led them over to a booth halfway between the bar and the DJ. The bench was covered in dark velvet and faced the dance floor. The large wooden table was at knee height and sported an ice sculpture of a raven in the center. A sizable bottle of Grey Goose La Poire and several cocktail glasses were already waiting for them. A bouncer, in attire similar to the guard at the door, stood passively in one corner.

“Would anyone like anything else?” Bridgette asked as she began pouring out a round for the table.

“A couple bottles of Perrier?” Alya asked, looking at Adrien.

Adrien smiled eagerly at her and looked around at the whole table. “Seriously, everything is on my father tonight!” he said over the music. “Everyone is free to order whatever they’d like!”

“Perrier it is then!” Alya said enthusiastically to Bridgette, who nodded in acknowledgement and headed off towards the bar.

Marinette raised her glass, “To Adrien’s father, our unwitting benefactor!”

“Santé!” the rest of the party cheered, clinking glasses and taking a sip of the pear-flavored vodka. Alix, Mylène, Rose, and Juleka were too happy at the prospect of free drinks for the rest of the night to question the strange toast.

Alya stripped off her jacket and stashed her purse beneath it; the rest of the girls followed suit, excited to have a personal guard for their drinks and belongings.

“This is the height of luxury!” Mylène moaned in satisfaction as she polished off her drink.

Bridgette returned bearing five bottles of Perrier balanced expertly on a silver tray with a stack of glass water cups. She filled and distributed the glasses with graceful efficiency.

“One more for the road?” Alya called, sliding her empty cocktail glass towards the Grey Goose.

There was another cheer and Bridgette supplied them with another round.

“If you need anything else, just flip this switch,” she said, pointing out a switch next to the ice sculpture. She flicked it into the on position and the ice sculpture lit up. She laughed at their awe-struck faces one more time, before turning out the light and moving on to a nearby table.

“To _La Bibliothèque_!” Alya raised her cocktail glass. “The only place I will be checking out books from for the foreseeable future,” she added with a laugh.

 _“La Bibliothèque_!” the rest of the party echoed, clinking glasses and shooting their drinks this time.

“To the dance floor!” Rose called happily, tugging Juleka up and leading her off.

Alix gave a whoop and vaulted over the banister separating their booth from the dance floor, beating Rose and Juleka down by several seconds. Alya and Mylène quickly followed, taking the walkway.

Adrien and Marinette glanced at each other shyly, before he stood and offered her his hand. “Would you care to dance, Miss Dupain-Cheng?” he asked.

“I would love to, Mister Graham de Vanily,” she said, batting her eyes with faux coquettishness.

He laughed and pulled her to her feet before following in Alix’s footsteps, using one hand to lever himself up and over the banister. He held his hand out to her and she delicately stepped up on the railing with the balls of her feet, thankful she’d worn spandex shorts under her skirt. Once she was balanced atop the banister with the aid of Adrien’s hand, he tugged her down and caught her bridal style, spinning to swing her easily down to her feet.

The waiting group of friends clapped enthusiastically at the pair’s antics. Even Juleka, seemed to have warmed up to Adrien.

The group maneuvered their way towards the middle of the writhing mass of people and lost themselves to the music. Marinette was already prepared for the magic of Adrien’s dance moves, having seen his private rock show, but the rest of the girls were satisfyingly surprised when he began to let loose. They all took turns dancing with him, laughing as he spun them and mixed classic ballroom steps with the stereotypical club bounce and sway. Whenever they saw strangers making eyes at him, they promptly ran interference and he did the same if any unwanted attention came their way.

After a few songs, three men stormed their party and the girls all greeted them happily.

“Guys, this is Adrien!” Marinette shouted by way of introduction. “Adrien, these are the guys!”

“Lê Chiến Kim,” one of the three said, taking Adrien’s hand in a strong grip. He was taller than Adrien and broad-shouldered with olive skin and grey eyes.

“Max Kanté,” a shorter, dark-skinned man with curly hair next to Kim said. “And that’s Ivan Bruel,” Max continued, gesturing over his shoulder at a boy, even taller and broader than Kim, who had lifted Mylène off her feet and spun her in a circle before setting her down with a kiss. “Mylène’s husband.”

Alix shoved her way between Kim and Max and wrapped an arm around each of their shoulders. “Adrien here is a new friend of Marinette’s and is sponsoring all of our alcohol for this evening.”

“Sweet, dude!” Kim said raising his hand for a high five. “I was wondering how we snagged a table and bottle service. We kinda already helped ourselves to the last of the Grey Goose.”

Adrien smiled and completed the high five. “No worries! Seriously, feel free to order whatever you want!”

With that, the dancing resumed; though now with so many members of their party Marinette and Adrien found themselves gravitating towards each other more often than not. They eventually ended up face to face; foreheads close, Marinette’s arms twined around his neck, and his around her waist. Adrien raised one hand and spun her out. Instead of spinning all the way back in to face him again, she ended with her back towards him, moving in closely, and grinding slightly against him.

Adrien’s hands automatically moved to her hips as they swayed together to the beat of the music. They were both flushed and sweating, the heat of the alcohol and their bodies pooling around them. One of his hands slid up to her waist, leaving her uncovered skin scorched in its wake. She bit her lip, trying not to moan in pleasure as he bent his head towards hers and the warmth of his breath sent goosebumps down her spine. Marinette was so caught up in the music and the solidity of his body that it took her a moment to hear the catcalls aimed their way. Coming back to her surroundings, she snapped her eyes open and grabbed the hand still gripping her hip, holding it lightly as she took a quick step away from Adrien. He looked at her, a mix of confusion and disappointment in his expression, before realizing what had distracted her.

The rest of their group had surrounded them and were whistling and hooting. Adrien and Marinette blushed and looked away from each other sheepishly. Kim and Alix stepped forward and each grabbed one of Adrien’s arms. They started to manhandle him back towards the table yelling, “[Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots! Shots](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yNju8Rgwtg8)!” followed closely by Rose, Juleka, Max, Mylène, and Ivan. Alya put an arm around Marinette’s shoulders, jumping happily at how well her matchmaking was playing out, and the pair hurried after everyone.

When they pushed their way back to the booth, Alix had already managed to flag Bridgette down and get another bottle of Grey Goose La Poire. She was in the process of pouring a round as Marinette and Alya collapsed onto the bench.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” the DJ called out over the speaker system. “This will be my last song! I’m Syren and I’ve had a ton of fun spinning for you! Thank you for letting me be a part of the start of your night!”

The crowd roared spiritedly in response.

“You’re in for a special treat after me,” she continued. “Can I get a drum roll?”

She kept the thrumming baseline going as everyone in the club responded by rapidly pounding on whatever flat surface was nearby; table, thighs, the backs of other dancers. She steadily increased the speed and pitch, until everyone was on the edge of their nerves waiting for the beat to drop.

“Coming to the stage, live and in color…” she continued to taunt as a figure appeared behind her and started to walk towards the glowing turntables.

“Is none other than…” the music reached a crescendo and a moment of silence fell.

“The Bubbler!” Syren called as the man behind her stepped into the light with his arms raised and the music and crowd went insane; everyone in the booth included, except Alya who was looking like the cat that caught the canary.

They all began shouting questions at her simultaneously.

She held up her hands in a placating gesture and yelled back, “Of course I knew he was playing tonight! Why do you think I needled you all so hard to come out?” She had a huge grin on her face.

Marinette and Mylène, who were sitting on either side of her, sandwiched her in a bone-crushing hug.

Adrien, who had been cheering as loudly as the rest of them, looked questioningly at Alix. “Wait… do you guys know Nino Lahiffe?!”

“He went to collège and lycée with us,” Alix smirked at him.

Adrien’s mouth dropped open. “I have never hated the fact that I was homeschooled more than in this moment,” he said.

“Lucky Marinette found you,” Alix said, shoving a cocktail glass brimming with clear liquid into his hand. “She has a thing for strays,” she continued with a wink.

Adrien laughed and looked over at said girl, who was sitting at the opposite end of the booth. He caught her eye and felt his heart expand when she beamed back at him.

“To Alya and Nino!” Kim yelled, raising his glass.

“To Alya and Nino!” everyone except Alya, whose cheeks darkened in embarrassment, shouted as they clinked glasses and downed their drinks.

Syren’s final song was winding down. The Bubbler stepped up to one of the turntables and began to lay a beat beneath hers. The two songs fit together seamlessly and as Syren finished her set, The Bubbler smoothly took over. It was a flawless transition.

“Hello, my lovely dudes and dudettes!” he called out and the crowd screamed in response. “I’d like to dedicate this set to my former classmates who are sitting in the Poe Booth tonight!”

He pointed towards their table and the lights followed, highlighting the group as they jumped up, screaming and waving back at the DJ booth. The crowd cheered excitedly at the shout out.

The lights snapped back to the stage, as The Bubbler began his set in earnest, and the crowd pushed forwards towards him. Those not already on the dance floor began to move towards it en masse.

“Quick! To the floor!” Alix shouted and this time everyone at the table followed her over the banister.

The crowd parted to allow the group through to the front, closing behind them in their wake. Nino glanced up briefly when they arrived and raised his hand in a small wave of greeting. The beat rose steadily, and then, it dropped.

!@#^&*()(*&^%$#@!

When The Bubbler’s set ended the group of friends collapsed back into their booth, drenched in sweat. Bridgette appeared immediately bearing Perrier. She was greeted by raucous cheers. A few minutes later, Nino appeared and was immediately swarmed by his former classmates. He was wearing his signature black-rimmed glasses and red baseball cap as well as his stage outfit: a [bright red jacket with blue, yellow, and black horizontal stripes](http://images6.fanpop.com/image/photos/40400000/Alya-and-Nino-miraculous-ladybug-40412281-449-500.png), which he immediately took off to reveal a bright blue t-shirt with an eye emblazoned on the center. His arms were decked out with the usual bright colored rubber bands and jade turtle bracelet.

Alya shoved a full cocktail glass into his hand, “You need to catch up!”

He laughed and threw back the drink in one gulp. Alya immediately refilled it.

“Nino!” Marinette shouted. “Nino, this is Adrien!” she pointed at Adrien. “Adrien this is Nino!”

The two men shook hands.

“Awesome set, man!” Adrien said enthusiastically. “I’m a huge fan but I’ve never made it to one of your gigs before. Absolutely brilliant!”

Nino grinned, “Thanks, dude! And thank you for securing a table for everyone! The manager said they’d comp one of the bottles. They didn’t realize y’all were here with me.”

“We didn’t realize we were here with you either until you stepped up on stage,” Adrien smiled. “Alya sure knows how to keep a secret!”

“And don’t anyone forget it!” she yelled, gesturing at Nino to take his next shot, everyone at the table cheering him on.

“Come on, dude,” Nino moaned as Alya filled his glass again. “You can’t make me drink alone!”

Alya shrugged and filled the remaining glasses, officially emptying bottle number two.

“To reunions!” Alya yelled lifting her glass.

“And new friends!” Nino added with a nod towards Adrien, who smiled shyly at the special mention.

“Santé!” came the answering cry.

“Back to the dance floor!” Juleka yelled, slamming her empty glass back down on the table, and surprising everyone.

Once they recovered from the shock, they charged after her.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

The group staggered out of the club at closing and piled into Adrien’s car. Marinette stole Adrien’s phone and put on a karaoke-worthy playlist that everyone proceeded to belt along to as G dropped them off at their respective destinations. While they were engaged in their singalong, Marinette passed Adrien’s phone around and everyone added their number to his contact list; texting themselves from his phone to ensure they had his info as well.

Mylène and Ivan’s apartment was first. Mylène was sleeping soundly against him by the time they arrived. Ivan hefted her over his shoulder and waved goodbye to everyone with the other hand.

Alix, Kim, and Max were next. Kim and Max were roommates and Alix was going to be crashing with them while she was in the city. The three continued to sing boisterously as they made their way, arm-in-arm and swaying to the non-existent beat, into the apartment building.

Rose and Juleka lived in a condo three blocks away from Alya and Marinette. Rose had also fallen asleep so Nino and Adrien helped heft her onto Juleka’s back before the dark-haired gave a round of hugs and waved them all off.

On the way back to Marinette and Alya’s, Alya subtly slid over to Adrien. “So,” she said. “I would love to have the apartment to myself for the night.” She nodded over towards Nino, who was engaged in a fierce arm-wrestling competition with Marinette.

“Oh!” Adrien said looking back and forth between Nino and Alya. His eyes widened in realization. “Oooooh.”

“Yeeees,” Alya nodded.

“I mean,” he said blushing. “Marinette is welcome to stay in my guest room…”

“Great!” she said, springing over towards Nino and Marinette. She whispered something in the other girl’s ear. Marinette immediately turned pink and lost focus, allowing Nino to get the upper hand and slam her arm down onto the seat they were playing on.

When the car pulled up outside of their apartment building, all four piled out to say their goodbyes.

“You have 30 seconds to grab an overnight bag,” Alya said seriously to Marinette before turning to embrace Adrien.

Marinette, who had removed her shoes in the car, bolted for the stairs.

When Alya let go, Nino held out his forearm and Adrien bumped it with his.

“I’ll be in the city for the next few months, dude,” Nino said. “Wanna grab lunch next week?”

Adrien looked gobsmacked. “Yes!” he nodded vigorously. “Wednesday? 1300 at Happy Caffé?”

Nino laughed, pulling out his phone.

Adrien felt his cell vibrate a moment later and tugged it out of his pocket to see a text from “Your New Best Bro.” It was a calendar invite for Wednesday. He looked back up at Nino in disbelief.

Before he could make a fool of himself by bursting into grateful tears, Marinette ran back out of the building with her travel bag, panting heavily.

Alya pulled the girl into a hug. “You’re the best, Mari,” she whispered.

“You so owe me again,” Marinette whispered back.

“Getting you and Adrien alone in his apartment isn’t enough?” Alya replied teasingly before she pulled away

Nino took his turn, lifting Marinette off her feet with his embrace.

“So happy you’re back,” Marinette said squeezing him tightly.

“Happy to be home,” Nino said as he released her, a huge grin on his face. “See you both tomorrow!” He threw an arm around Alya’s shoulder and they turned to head into the apartment building, waving goodbye with their backs turned.

Marinette and Adrien glanced at each other before slipping back into the car. Marinette saw that the security shade was back up. She didn’t know whether that meant G shipped her and Adrien and wanted to offer them every encouragement possible or if that meant that G thought she and Adrien were incapable of keeping their hands off each other in their current state of inebriation.

She peeked over at Adrien who was staring fixedly out the window and suddenly realized how quiet it was. And how little clothing she was wearing. And how it had felt when his hands had trailed across her bare skin mere hours ago. And how she had been able to feel every line of his body as she ground into him.

 _Fuck me,_ Marinette thought, also turning her gaze to the nearest window.

The pair sat in a tense silence; neither daring to move or speak. Marinette breathed a sigh of relief as they pulled up to Adrien’s apartment building.

The doorman was off duty, so Adrien pulled the door open for her. The security guard looked up briefly but waved them on as they crossed the lobby. When they reached the elevator, Adrien scanned a little tag on his keychain to open the inner door while Marinette slid open the external one.

As the lift ascended, they turned towards each other simultaneously:

“Thank you for inviting me out, it meant a lot to me to meet everyone!”

“Thank you for coming out tonight and letting Alya bully you into letting me stay!”

They burst into laughter, the tension evaporating instantaneously.

“They loved you,” Marinette said. “Seriously, I hope you weren’t enjoying your alone time because your phone is going to be blowing up.”

Adrian pulled her into a hug. “I really mean it, Marinette,” he whispered into her hair. “Tonight was the first time I’ve felt at home since my grandparents died.”

She returned the embrace, wrapping her arms around his neck and burying her face in his chest. “I’m happy I could help give that feeling to you,” she murmured.

When they got inside his apartment, Marinette used the guest bathroom to get ready for bed. After she got cleaned up and changed into black cotton shorts and a pink shirt, she stepped out to find Adrien standing awkwardly in the bedroom doorway, clad in black lounge pants and a black t-shirt with multicolored horizontal stripes.

“I brought you a glass of water,” he said holding said item up.

“Thank you,” she said walking over to take it from him.

He spoke rapidly, “Also I was wondering if maybe you wanted to hangout for a little longer and just talk?”

She smiled up at him. “I’d like that very much,” she said.

His posture relaxed and he took her hand, leading her to the master suite. He sat down on the left half of the bed and Marinette took the right.

They talked until she fell asleep. Adrien was halfway to slumber himself or he might have found the energy to move himself to the guest bedroom. As it was, he drifted off moments after she did, and each instinctively shifted closer to the other as they slept.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for the wonderful readership! 
> 
> Next chapter: The Lazy Sunday will be hitting Ao3 next year... on January 5th :-p


	5. The Lazy Sunday

Marinette woke to the sunlight streaming in through the bedroom window. She was drowsy and momentarily forgot where she was as she snuggled closer to the source of heat emanating from her back. A warm weight was also draped around her waist and entwined with her hand in front of her stomach.

She slowly came to her senses as the memories from last night drifted back to her. She finally cracked open her eyes and did a double take when she looked down and saw a muscular arm wrapped around her midsection. She realized that the source of warmth was a human body. Her heart started to pound as a pool of heat gathered in her belly.

Suddenly, Adrien pulled her even closer and nuzzled his face into her neck, murmuring something that sounded like, “Five more minutes, mémé.” Marinette wanted nothing more than to relax back into his arms, but despite his whispered protest, it seemed like he was stirring.

A few moments later, he had woken the rest of the way up. He tensed immediately when he realized he was spooning her and started to gently extricate himself, as though trying not to wake her. Marinette giggled.

“I’m already awake, silly,” she said rolling over towards him.

He hadn’t actually moved that far away yet; still close enough to kiss if she dared.

She didn’t dare. She blamed her cowardice on not wanting to overexpose Adrien to her morning breath.

Besides which, he looked mortified. “I’m so sorry Marinette! I was going to leave you to sleep in here, but it was so warm, and I was so tired…”

She pressed a finger to his lips to stop his yammering apology. “It’s okay, Adrien. Better than okay actually. I very much enjoyed waking up in your arms.”

He relaxed and smiled sheepishly. “I very much enjoyed waking up to you in my arms,” he admitted.

“I will happily volunteer my services as a cuddle buddy again in the future,” she said with a laugh.

“I’d like that,” he said, resting his forehead against hers, causing the warmth in her belly to move a little lower.

“Oh shit!” Marinette said suddenly, her eyes widening. “What time is it?”

Adrien rolled over and grabbed his phone from the nightstand, “927.”

Marinette flopped back on the bed. “Excellent. I was afraid we’d slept the whole morning away for a second. I’m not used to so much sunlight,” she laughed.

Adrien was staring at his phone in disbelief.

“You okay?” Marinette asked, rolling back onto her side to face him.

“Y-yeah,” he stammered. “It’s just… I’ve got so many messages!”

She peeked up at his screen and saw that Alix had invited Adrien into the group chat they’d had going since collège:

 **Sk8r Gurl:** Wats up bitches! Everyone still alive??

 **Parfum:** *thumbs up emoji* So good to see everyone last night! *heart-eyes emoji*

 **SmellyWolf:** Thx again for everything Adrien! Ivan and I want to have you over for dinner this week to show our appreciation! :)

 **#FIT:** But WE were going to invite Adrien over for dinner! -_-“

 **Gamer:** I shouldn’t have to point this out, but there are seven days in a week. Therefore, Adrien will be available for seven dinners.

 **AlyazWatchin:** Why are you heathens up so damn early?!

 **Sk8r Gurl:** The real q is y havent Mari and Adrien chimed in *smirking emoji*

 **Gamer:** Would it kill you to use proper grammar?

 **Sk8r Gurl:** Probz *smirking emoji*

“Go for it!” Marinette encouraged Adrien, gesturing at the small keyboard on the bottom half of the screen.

“What should I say?!” he asked turning to her.

“Anything?” she suggested and laughed.

“But… what if I say something weird and they realize I have no social skills?” he said panicked.

She laughed even harder and hit him with a pillow. “A) If you haven’t noticed, our entire group is downright certifiable and B) You so totally have social skills.”

He sighed and started typing: 

**Golden Boy:** Mari and I just woke up! Agree with Alya: don’t you guys ever sleep? Also, would love to completely book up my dinner

schedule for the week

A few seconds later, a response appeared:

**Sk8r Gurl:** Will sleep when im ded :)

Followed shortly by two calendar invites from Mylène and Kim.

“I did it!” Adrien said turning to her with way too much enthusiasm for what the situation warranted.

Marinette sighed, “You are ridiculously adorable.”

She realized what she’d said and bolted out of the bed. “So, got anything to eat around here?” she asked hurriedly, trying to redirect him.

Adrien, still recovering from the shock of being included in a group thread, having multiple future hangouts planned with friends, _and_ having Marinette compliment him, nodded slowly, “I can make us some omelettes.”

“Great!” Marinette said, turning to head into the kitchen.

Adrien burst out laughing behind her.

“What?” she said whipping back around in confusion.

“Are those Chat Noir lounge shorts?” he asked when he caught his breath.

Marinette’s cheeks and neck flushed. “Uhmmm…” she floundered. She’d completely forgotten that she was wearing her Chat Noir pajama LadyBlog Boutique prototype. Adrien must have spotted the lime green paw prints and cursive “Paws Off” written across her butt. Which, in addition to being caught out as a fangirl, also meant that Adrien had been watching a very specific part of her body as she walked away.

“No, no,” he said getting up quickly. “Don’t be embarrassed. Just give me two seconds.”

He dashed into his bathroom and a second later emerged wearing bright red lounge pants with vertical black stripes going down the outside of each leg and black back pockets. The leg stripes and pockets sported bright red spots, and Marinette knew that if he rolled up the pant leg, the lining would also be black with red spots.

“I have the Ladybug lounge pants from the LadyBlog Boutique!” he said spinning in a circle to model them.

Marinette joined him in his laughter.

“You do know I made those, right?” she said, raising her eyebrow.

His mouth dropped open.

“You run the LadyBlog Boutique?!” he asked incredulously.

She nodded, smile growing wider. “Alya runs the LadyBlog and I design and produce the merch.”

“Funny, I don’t remember you mentioning that when you were recounting your life story,” he muttered suspiciously.

Marinette made a face at him.

He laughed and shook his head, “Well, if I wasn’t intimidated by you two before…”

“Just reflect back on our game of _Truth or Drink_ from last night whenever you feel that way and you’ll remember how ridiculous and down-to-earth we are,” she said. “Actually… I take that back,” she added quickly. “Please forget everything that happened before we left for the club last night.”

Adrien smiled. “Too late,” he said. “Seared in my memory forever.”

As offered, Adrien made omelettes for breakfast. Marinette contributed by picking out and dicing the mix-ins. He also had a top-of-the-line espresso maker which he programmed to make two cappuccinos with half-and-half, just the way Marinette liked them. They ate their meal on the balcony and Adrien told her all about the backpacking trips he’d been on since becoming interested in hiking.

“So…” Marinette said hesitantly as they started clean-up. “Feel free to kick me out, but if you don’t mind my imposing further on your hospitality, the bag I brought has all my work supplies and I was wondering if I could stay here until it’s time to head to my parents?”

Adrien smiled warmly at her. “Of course! If you don’t mind that I’ll be practicing piano and reviewing all the materials from our fashion lesson in preparation for tomorrow.”

The tension in her face eased immediately. “Sounds perfect!”

She created a group text with Alya, Nino, and Adrien and sent a message:

 **Mari:** Brought my work stuff to Adrien’s. We will swing by around 1600 to get you guys before we head to the parentals. Have fun ;)

Almost instantaneously, Nino texted back a thumbs up emoji in confirmation.

Half an hour later, Marinette had set up a sewing workstation in the living room using a folding table Adrien usually kept tucked into the coat closet, and Adrien was starting his warm-up exercises at the piano. She sighed happily as she got to work pinning out a pair of lounge pants that would be almost identical to the ones Adrien was wearing.

By the time she was ready to start sewing, Adrien had finished his warm-up and he began to play [_Clair de Lune_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Yri2JNhyG4k). Marinette smiled, reflecting back on the first day they met.

 _I can’t believe that was just three days ago!_ she thought for a startled second. _It feels like we’ve known each other forever…_

Adrien was quickly becoming her new favorite work playlist. He said he was practicing but Marinette felt like she was getting a free concert. After, _Clair de Lune_ , he flawlessly transitioned into a medley of Erik Satie’s [Gymnopédies](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=_fuIMye31Gw) and Marinette lost track of time, slipping into a near meditative state as she finished the lounge pants and began working on a Rena Rouge-themed jacket.

Partway through the jacket she realized Adrien had moved back to Debussy and was nearing the crescendo of [_Doctor Gradus ad Parnassum_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RGB3eTVRsUQ), another one of her favorites. She took a short break in her work to watch him as he reached the climax of the song, fingers moving swiftly and nimbly across the keys. She was awed to see that his eyes were closed; he was completely lost in the music. When he hit the last note, she wanted to clap but didn’t want him to become too self-conscious to continue so she subtly returned to the jacket, making a mental note to compliment him later.

He soon started another piece that Marinette didn’t recognize. [It immediately brought rain to mind](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=mS0xZu5AYsk). When she closed her eyes, she could almost feel drops falling on her face and the wind whipping through her hair. When she opened her eyes and looked up at Adrien her vision flashed white as though lightening had struck outside the window, but when she turned to look outside, she saw that it was as sunny a day as ever. Her heart began to hammer in her chest and that same shock she’d felt when they first shook hands raced through her body. She looked back at him and saw that he was staring at her, a warm smile on his face. She blushed and smiled shyly back, embarrassed at being caught and of the strange feeling flooding her system.

“I’ve never heard that one before,” she murmured when he finished.

“Probably because I wrote it myself,” he said sheepishly.

Her mouth dropped open.

His right hand found the back of his neck in that nervous gesture she found so endearing. “I woke up from a dream one night and that song was stuck in my head,” he explained.

“What was the dream about?” Marinette asked, entranced.

“The details are a bit fuzzy,” he said, averting his gaze. “There was this girl standing in a field of pink peonies beneath a grey sky. She was too far away for me to see clearly and her back was towards me. I took a step towards her and lightening flashed, followed shortly by a roll of thunder. Then the floodgates opened, and it began pouring. When the first drops hit, a huge cloud of Ladybugs rose up from the field and swarmed around the girl before bursting up into the sky. That’s when I woke up. This song was playing over and over in my head so, even though it was almost three in the morning, I went downstairs and immediately began to write it out on some blank sheet music, playing it as quietly as possible to make sure I’d got it down right without disturbing my grandparents.”

“Whoa,” Marinette said, goosebumps sprouting on her arms.

“Yeah,” he shook his head to clear the dream from his mind’s eye and looked back at her.

“The song was beautiful,” Marinette said. “Your dream girl sure is lucky.” She turned quickly back to the jacket and missed the look of longing that sprouted across his face.

He took a deep breath and pulled himself together, trying to forget how much Marinette reminded him of Ladybug.

For the remainder of practice, he decided to stick to modern works. He picked back up with the main theme from [_Inside Out_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9XCKZqwH9Cs), which he was pleased to see made Marinette smile unconsciously as she put the finishing touches on the piece she was working on and began a third. 

A sudden idea crossed his mind, and when he finished the song, he immediately began to play a rendition of [_Where is my Mind?_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KFiScXBMR7E). As hoped, Marinette began to hum along reflexively. She was so focused on the shorts she was making; she hadn’t noticed that she was doing it: His plan was working.

He smoothly transitioned into [_La Vie en Rose_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=eu1auaUHy0c) and almost stopped in shock when she actually began to sing after listening to him play the introductory stanzas:

_Quand il me prend dans ses bras_

_Il me parle l'a tout bas_

_Je vois la vie en rose_

_Il me dit des mots d'amour_

_Des mots de tous les jours_

_Et ça m' fait quelque chose_

She had a gorgeous voice! He hadn’t been able to appreciate it when they’d all been singing loudly, and drunkenly, on the car ride home yesterday. And she hadn’t yet realized she was singing or else had forgotten where she was. Either way, Adrien mentally patted himself on the back for coaxing the song out of her.

_Il est entré dans mon coeur_

_Une part de bonheur_

_Dont je connais la cause_

_C'est lui pour moi_

_Moi pour lui dans la vie_

_Il me l'a dit, l'a jure pour la vie_

Marinette was swaying with the music now too as she moved around her makeshift sewing table. He couldn’t take his eyes off of her.

_Et, dès que je l'aperçois_

_Alors je sens en moi_

_Mon coeur qui bat_

He was afraid her trance might be broken by the piano bridge but didn’t want her to become privy to what he was doing by not playing it either. He was rewarded when she picked the song back up again, this time in English:

_Hold me close and hold me fast_

_The magic spell you cast_

_This is la vie en rose_

_When you kiss me heaven sighs_

_And though I close my eyes_

_I see la vie en rose_

He realized he’d stopped breathing and reminded himself that oxygen was necessary for life.

_When you press me to your heart_

_I'm in a world apart_

_And when you speak_

_Angels sing from above_

_Everyday words seem to turn into love songs_

_Give your heart and soul to me_

_And life will always be la vie en rose_

He stood and began a slow clap. Marinette froze and slowly raised her head towards him, cheeks scarlet. In the instant their eyes met, he knew he was in deep.

“You tricked me!” she cried, standing the rest of the way up and letting go of the cloth in her hands to point an accusatory finger at him.

“And it was so worth it,” he replied with a smirk, heart racing. “A finale not worth trying to top,” he added, closing the cover over the keys.

He stepped out from in front of the bench and stretched, trying to ignore the sudden strong desire to stride over to Marinette and pull her into his arms.

She put her finger down and continued to splutter wordlessly; blush only growing more prominent and spreading down her neck.

Adrien smiled even wider then turned towards the master suite to retrieve the sketchbook with all the notes from Saturday’s fashion lesson, whistling _La Vie en Rose_ as he walked away.

“You’re lucky I like you or I would kill you so hard,” Marinette muttered as she returned to her work.

“I like you too!” he called from the bedroom.

“How is your hearing so good?” she griped.

“Good breeding,” he said as he returned, sticking his tongue out at her.

Marinette rolled her eyes and gestured over her shoulder at the phonograph. “If you aren’t going to be my personal radio anymore, I demand some background noise.”

“As you wish, my lady,” he said, walking over to his vinyl collection.

Both of them tensed when they realized what he’d called her.

He cleared his throat. “How’s [_Explosions in the Sky_](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Ziw4yd5R0QI)?” he asked as nonchalantly as possible.

“Perfect,” Marinette replied just as casually.

It took several songs for their hearts to resume a normal pace.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

At 1500, Marinette’s phone alarm went off. She and Adrien had been so engrossed in their work, it took them a few moments to come back to reality. Marinette shut off the alarm, stretching her arms above her head, and yawning widely. Adrien tried not to focus on the fact that Marinette’s t-shirt and risen with her arms and was exposing the same wide swath of muscular stomach that had been on display last night.

“I don’t know about you,” she said as she finished her stretch. “But I need to shower.”

“Definitely,” Adrien said, trying not to imagine Marinette finishing that sentence with the provocative invitation, “I’ll wash your back if you’ll wash mine.”

She began to pack away her supplies which made him remember a question he’d forgotten to ask earlier.

“Where does Nino live?”

Marinette looked up at him curiously.

“I m-mean,” Adrien stammered. “Does Nino have his own place in the city or…”

“That’s actually a good question,” she sighed as she resumed packing. “As you may or may not have noticed, Alya and Nino have a sort of friends-with-benefits thing going on. He was actually renting the room I’m currently staying in, though I’m not sure he ever actually slept in there. Since I needed a place to stay, and he was headlining in Vegas for the foreseeable future, I took over his place on the lease. We moved the rest of his clothing to Alya’s closet and his toiletries were already in her bathroom, so the only thing we had to do was move the few belongings he’d left behind into a storage locker.

“I need to ask Alya and Nino what they want to do. If I get the lease for the storefront I put a bid on, I can try to rent the apartment above. But, if it doesn’t happen to become vacant soon, it could be months, or even years before it becomes available. I’m totally okay with Nino staying with us, but I don’t want to get in the way of their time together…” she finished zipping up her bag.

Adrien gulped, it was now or never. “Do you want to stay here?” he asked.

Marinette froze. “Is that a serious invitation?” she replied without looking up.

“Y-yes,” Adrien faltered. “That is… i-if you wanted another option on the table, I’d be t-thrilled to have you here.” He couldn’t bear to look at her.

She slammed into him, throwing her arms around his neck in an ecstatic embrace. “I would love to!” her muffled response came from his chest.

Before he could wrap his arms around her in response, she let go and began pacing.

She rambled as she walked, “We can all talk about it on the way to my parents. Of course, even if Alya and Nino are okay with the three of us living in the same apartment, being able to crash here for at least a week would give them a little honeymoon period before I’m a perma-third wheel. And I can definitely contribute to rent or pay by cooking meals, ‘cause I can’t just stay here for free. And…”

He grabbed her by the shoulders to still her. “Marinette,” he laughed. “We’ll worry about that if it actually happens. For now, just know that my apartment is yours should you need it.”

She hugged him again and this time he squeezed her back, realizing a little belatedly that she was definitely not wearing a bra. A fact she seemed to have forgotten in her excitement.

She must have seen the clock over his shoulder because she gasped and unwound herself. “Meet you back out here in 30,” she said, dashing over to pick up her bag. It swung merrily at her side as she walked down the hallway to the guest room. 

Adrien stood transfixed, reliving the feel of Marinette’s breasts rubbing against his chest through the thin layers of their shirts. A shirt that she had probably shed at this point, mere feet away from him behind the closed guest room door. Pity; he’d been looking forward to a warm shower.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

Nino and Alya were already waiting outside when Adrien’s car pulled up.

On the way to the bakery it was determined that Marinette would stay with Adrien rent free (since his father owned the building Adrien didn’t actually pay anything to live there) for the next month. By then, Nino would know whether he’d be staying in Paris long-term, at which point a more permanent living arrangement would need to be devised. They also made a pitstop at an ATM so Marinette could deposit her week’s earnings, which Alya fed into the machine so Marinette wouldn’t pocket any bills to slip back to Adrien.

The _T &S_ _Boulangerie Patisserie_ was closed on Sundays. Marinette used her key to open the door, calling out to announce their arrival to her parents even as the bell above the door chimed in warning. There was a thunder of footsteps and a large man, a head taller than Adrien and at least twice as wide, emerged from the narrow stairway leading to the living quarters above. Despite his intimidating presence, the man was smiling broadly and swept all four young adults into his arms.

“Papa!” Marinette whined in embarrassment. “You haven’t been formally introduced to Adrien; you can’t just physically assault him like the rest of us!”

The man laughed and relinquished his grip.

“Bonjour, Adrien!” he said, extending his hand to the blonde. “I’m Tom. We sort-of met on the phone.”

“Bonjour… Tom,” Adrien said, hesitating before addressing the man as informally as he’d introduced himself. “It’s great to officially meet you!”

“Likewise!” he thundered, letting go of Adrien’s hand. “This way kids,” he said nodding towards the staircase he’d just descended. “Sabine is laying out some snacks.”

“I’m just going to show Adrien the bakery really quick and then we’ll be up,” Marinette said as Alya and Nino began to climb.

“Okay, honey! Adrien, there’s nothing fresh today, but feel free to grab anything you like. It’s on the house,” he smiled and then headed up too.

Once they were alone, Marinette spread her arms out wide, gesturing to their surroundings. “So,” she said. “This is the bakery. When we’re open, we put all our goods on display out here.”

She pointed to an open doorway to the left of the staircase. “Through there we have seating. And through there,” she pointed to a closed door behind the front register, “Is where the magic happens.”

As they walked over to the kitchen, Adrien caught a glimpse of the café. It looked extremely cozy. The kitchen in the bakery was not as modernized as the one in Adrien’s apartment, but the antique appliances were well-suited to the space. For a moment, it made Adrien wish he’d gone with a more rustic redesign when renovating his apartment. There was something almost overwhelmingly home-y about walking around the bakery.

“I think I like this better than mine,” he said turning to her with a smile.

“It definitely has its charm,” she said. “Though I can’t help but feel I’m a little biased considering I grew up in here.”

They headed upstairs to join the rest of the party and Adrien immediately found himself swept into another embrace by a short Asian woman with a pink peony tucked behind her ear.

“Bonjour, Adrien! I’m sorry, I should have asked if you were okay with hugs,” she said when she stepped back. “I’m Sabine.”

“That’s totally okay,” Adrien said. “Hěn gāoxìng jiàndào nǐ.” _[Pleased to meet you]_

“Ni hui shuo zhongwen!” she replied, a huge smile blossoming across her face. _[You can speak Mandarin!]_

“My father thinks it’s the language of the future,” he replied sheepishly, scratching the nape of his neck.

“Nín bì xū liàn xí Marinette. “Tā xū yào tā néng dé dào de suǒ yǒu bāng zhù!” Sabine smirked at her daughter. _[You must practice with Marinette. She needs all the help she can get]_

“Maman!” Marinette cried. “I can understand it much better than I can speak it! You can’t use it to talk about me in front of my face.”

“Wǒ gào sù guò nǐ nǐ shì wǒ zuì xǐ huan de nǚ ér ma?” Sabine asked with a grin. _[Have I ever told you that you’re my favorite daughter?]_

Marinette snorted and rolled her eyes. “Not much competition there.”

She turned to Adrien who was staring intently at some family photos on display near the front door. His smile was heartbreaking.

“Hey, Adrien,” she said gently.

He jumped slightly and turned to face her, eyes glistening ever so slightly. “Yes! Present!”

“Welcome to the house,” she said, trying to distract him from wherever his mind had gone. “On this floor we have the living room, dining room, kitchen, and toilet. Up the stairs is the bathroom and bedrooms.”

With that, they walked over to the dining table and joined Alya and Nino who were engaged in an animated conversation with Tom while enjoying the snacks Sabine had set out.

“I don’t believe you!” Tom said wide-eyed.

“They don’t call it _Sin City_ for nothing,” Nino replied with a sly smile.

Tom shook his head in disbelief then caught sight of Marinette. “Hey honey, have you heard about that lease yet?”

Marinette sighed, “Not yet. If they don’t contact me by tomorrow afternoon, I’m going to call them again for an update.”

Sabine sidled up to the table and slid an envelope to her daughter. Marinette looked up at her quizzically.

“Papa and I want to help you with the store,” she said as Tom wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Marinette started to push the envelope back towards them without opening it. “I can’t take money from you guys! You need to be saving for retirement!”

Tom laughed. “We wouldn’t know what to do with ourselves if we retired! We plan on running this bakery until we die.”

Marinette opened her mouth to protest but Sabine merely slid the envelope over to Alya who pocketed it with a conspiratorial wink.

“That doesn’t work if I see you doing it!” Marinette said, scowling at her best friend.

“Of course it does,” Alya replied coolly. “This money is getting into your account one way or the other. Just accept it and say thank you to your parents, Mari.”

Marinette rolled her eyes then turned back to her parents. “Thank you, maman and papa,” she said with a small bow. “You guys have always been so supportive of my dreams and I love you for that.”

Sabine and Tom enveloped Marinette in a hug and Sabine got a secret low-five from Alya behind her back while Marinette was distracted.

“Now then,” Tom said, stepping back. “Shall we play a game? Jeu du Nain Jaune anyone?”

“I haven’t played that game in ages!” Nino said excitedly. “I’m down.”

“I used to play that one with my grandparents,” Adrien chimed in. “I’d also like to play.”

“Excellent!” Tom said, heading into the living room to grab the board.

They played multiple rounds, of which Adrien ended up winning the majority, until dinner was ready.

“Did you do anything else _besides_ play this growing up?” Alya asked him teasingly.

He grinned at her, “I was homeschooled so… no.”

Everyone helped to clear the table and Sabine revealed the special dinner she’d prepared.

“I went all out since everyone was coming!” she said as she brought the first platter to the table. It was covered in steamed jiǎo zi (dumplings). “Veggie on the right and pork on the left,” she said as she set it down. “The bowl in the center has black vinegar mixed with a chili sauce for dipping.”

She returned to the kitchen for a huge bowl and another platter with what looked like kebabs.

“In the bowl is bō cài miàn, spinach noodle with veggies and beef, and the platter has kǎo ròu, spiced chicken cooked over burning coal,” Sabine said. “And because vegetables are good for you,” she continued as she grabbed another plate from the kitchen. “The last dish is liáng cài.”

“Wow, Sabine!” Alya gasped. “You didn’t have to do all this!”

Sabine waved her hand at her. “Don’t worry, it was fun for me! It’s been awhile since I made traditional cuisine.

“Merci beaucoup!” everyone chimed simultaneously.

Sabine smiled and clapped her hands, “Dig in!”

Once plates were full and mouths were being stuffed, Sabine turned to Adrien, “What brought you to Paris?”

He swallowed hard and glanced at Marinette who gave him a reassuring nod. “My father recently asked me to help out at his company,” he replied. “I’m planning on working there for a year or so and then I want to head back to my hometown to run the resort my grandparents used to manage.”

“Oh!” Tom exclaimed. “What line of work is your dad in?”

“He’s a… fashion designer,” Adrien hesitated.

Tom and Sabine laughed. “Did Marinette know that before or after she invited you to dinner?”

“Hey!” Marinette said, mouth full of noodle.

Adrien smirked, “As a matter of fact, it was after.”

“I would’ve loved to see Marinette’s face when she found out who your dad is,” Alya sighed.

“Someone we would recognize?” Sabine asked.

“Unfortunately,” Adrien said. “I’m not permitted to disclose that information yet.”

“You can find out live on the _Mediaport_ website tomorrow though,” Alya said with a huge grin.

“They can?” Adrien asked surprised.

Alya frowned. “Didn’t your dad tell you that I’m coming to interview you both tomorrow?”

Adrien’s eyes widened. “What?!”

Marinette put her hand on his arm. “The company is releasing the press report about you, Adrien. Alya’s going to be running the show.”

“B-but,’ he spluttered, “I haven’t prepared! I’ve never been interviewed for TV before! And I have no idea what to wear!”

Marinette smiled, “Well then I guess it’s good you have a personal stylist and are friends with the reporter.”

“I can send you the questions I’m planning to ask!” Alya volunteered. “Just as a warning though: I don’t usually stick to the script. You really don’t need to worry about the interview. From what I know about your father, he’ll be doing all of the talking.”

“Really?” Adrien said relieved.

“Really,” Alya reassured him.

During the exchange between Adrien and Alya, Sabine shot Marinette a pointed look and raised an eyebrow at her hand, which was still placed on Adrien’s arm.

Marinette quickly moved her appendage, but the damage was done.

“I’ll have to find some way to make this up to Madame Chamack,” Adrien said thoughtfully. “Not that I don’t want you to get the scoop, Alya!” he added quickly. “But I think she might feel mildy betrayed that I didn’t tell her who my father is first.”

Marinette squinted at him. “How do you know her anyway?”

“She wipes the floor with me during fencing,” he said with a laugh.

Chopsticks clattered all around the table.

“I didn’t know Madame Chamack fenced!” Sabine cried.

Adrien nodded. “Not only does she fence, but she won several amateur competitions in her twenties.”

“Well TIL…” Alya said, snagging another dumpling. 

The rest of the dinner progressed without issue, and after some post-dinner chat over tea, it was time for the kids to head out, laden with bags of that week’s unsold pastries.

“Thank you so much for the wonderful meal! I’m happy I finally got to see the inside of the bakery too,” Adrien said as he hugged Tom and Sabine goodbye.

“Come back anytime!” Tom said. “Now that I know you have experience in the kitchen, I’ll put you to work,” he added with a wink.

“I’d actually enjoy that very much,” Adrien said without pretense.

Tom’s smile grew even broader.

When Sabine hugged her daughter, she took the opportunity to whisper in her ear, “I’ll be expecting a call with all the details, dear.”

Marinette sighed but said, “Of course, maman.” _Wait until she hears I’m living with him._

When they got back to Alya and Nino’s apartment, Marinette and Adrien walked up with them so that Marinette could pack up enough stuff for her monthlong stay.

As Marinette packed, Adrien explored her room.

“This is a cool pattern!” he said as he caressed a folded piece of [silk blue, green, and navy plaid](https://ak1.ostkcdn.com/images/products/17038495/Kavka-Designs-Blue-Green-Plaid-Navy-Aqua-Lime-Indoor-Outdoor-Floor-Mat-8-x-10-5df9c162-9a1c-44f3-8dae-b20c352125b7_600.jpg) stacked in her supply armoire.

“Oh yeah!” Marinette said looking up to see which fabric he was referring to. “I used that to make Ella and Etta, Alya’s twin sisters, matching pajama sets for their birthday.”

Adrien moved on and began to peruse the photos hanging around Marinette’s room, there were plenty from her school days as well as trips with friends and family. She noticed that he paused for much longer at pictures of her with her mom and dad and wondered what he was thinking.

“Doing okay?” Marinette asked.

Adrien startled slightly. He’d been looking at a picture from the first time Marinette visited her relatives in China. “Oh yeah… I was just imagining what it would have been like if my dad was around more.”

“Are you looking forward to getting to know him over the course of this year?” Marinette questioned tentatively.

Adrien took several seconds to respond. “Honestly, I don’t know. When he first asked me to come work for the company, I’d hoped that the real reason was so he could get to know me, but based on the way he’s acted in the six months since I’ve been here, I’m sure that’s not the case. In a way, I’m just waiting for the other shoe to drop. I think eventually he’ll reveal that he only brought me here to boost public opinion or because the secret was about to get out anyway or something else even more sinister. I feel like a terrible son saying that aloud…”

“I’m sorry, Adrien,” Marinette said. She’d stopped packing to give him her full attention. “If it’s any consolation at all, I’m glad you’re here and I don’t think you’re a terrible son for thinking all of that. Given your past relationship with your father it seems only natural to have misgivings.”

He gave her a grateful smile. “Thank you, Marinette. I’m glad I ended up here as well. It’s been nice not to be alone.”

She blushed and returned to her packing as he turned back to the photos on her wall.

It took Marinette 15 more minutes to get everything together. Adrien grabbed her bulky rolling bag despite her protests leaving her with the travel bag and sewing machine. She gave the room a once over, to make sure there was nothing she was forgetting, and snuck the silk plaid into her bag as she walked out of the room behind Adrien.

When they got back to his apartment, he set up a more permanent sewing station in the living room for her while she settled her stuff into the guest bedroom. Nesting done, they retired to his bedroom for more evening chit chat during which they decided that he should wear the third and final outfit his father had sent over for his first day of work: a slim cut navy blue suit with a silver and blue tie.

When they fell asleep together, they pretended it was an accident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As always, kudos and comments are much appreciated!
> 
> Things pick up a bit next week in The Premiere, to be posted January 12.


	6. The Premiere

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for posting late! I went on a trip over the weekend and didn't take my laptop with me.
> 
> About halfway through, this chapter takes a very, Very, VERY dark turn! ALL OF THE TRIGGER WARNINGS: rape/non-con, major character deaths, and suicide. Spoiler: None of those things are permanent; they all take place within a nightmare world created by an Akuma, but they are all described in variable detail and are potentially upsetting! We will return to our regularly scheduled, only mildly angsty romance in the next chapter (though references to the nightmares will continue to be made throughout the remainder of the story).

For once in her life, Marinette woke early of her own accord. Before falling asleep, she’d thought of the perfect gift to give Adrien to show her thanks for letting her stay at his apartment, and the adrenaline propelled her awake before her alarm.

Once again, they’d moved towards each other as they slept. She regretfully extricated herself from his arms as gently as possible so as not to wake him and snuck into his closet to grab the suit jacket he would be wearing that day.

As quietly as she could manage, she removed the white silk lining of the jacket and replaced it with the plaid silk Adrien had admired while she packed. When she finished, she crept into the guest bedroom and got part two of the gift before sneaking back into the master suite and hanging the jacket just as she’d found it and putting the other parcel on the adjacent shelf.

That done, Marinette crawled back into bed and got to enjoy a few more seconds of Adrien’s arms before his alarm went off. He silenced it swiftly, sliding over to the far side of the bed as though worried he’d get caught spooning her again. She couldn’t help but laugh.

“I thought you weren’t an early bird!” he said covering his face in embarrassment.

“Special occasion,” she said. Her smile faltered, “I-if you feel uncomfortable with my sleeping in here, I can…”

“No!” Adrien said quickly. “I just… is that weird?”

“I think if neither of us thinks it’s weird than it’s not weird?” she said hesitantly.

“Well okay then,” he said with a shy smile, cheeks tinged pink. “Glad we got that settled.”

She smiled back, face turning the same delicate shade as his.

“I have a surprise for you!” she grinned even wider and began to push him out of bed with her feet.

Adrien complied, flipping up the covers and sliding off the edge of the bed. Marinette quickly followed and pressed him towards the closet.

“Should I keep my eyes closed until you say so too?” he teased, giving her little resistance.

She rolled her eyes at him and left him standing just outside the closet doors as she entered to retrieve the presents. When she returned, she brandished the suit jacket.

“I know it’s from your father’s newest collection, but I thought you would appreciate a touch of personal flair,” Marinette said showing him the new lining she’d added.

“It’s wonderful, Marinette!” he said taking the jacket and running his hands along the silk. “I’ll feel much more like myself with this addition!”

She smiled at him and held up the other gift; a pair of dress socks with little fencing swords all over them. “Great! ‘Cause I also bought you these.”

Adrien took the socks with a laugh. “When did you even have time to buy these?”

“I have my ways,” Marinette responded with a wink. She’d actually bought them on the way to her aerial class on Friday. She’d seen them in a shop display and thought they’d be perfect for Adrien. She knew it would only be a matter of time before an occasion to gift them to him would arise. 

He set the gifts down on a nearby chair and pulled her into a hug. “Thank you, Marinette! With your fashion lesson and these gifts, I feel like you’ve given me the confidence to actually pull this off.”

“N-no problem,” she stuttered as she returned the gesture. “I’ll b-be working from here today, so if anything comes up, don’t hesitate to call.”

“I seriously don’t know how to thank you,” he said releasing her.

Marinette snorted. “I’m pretty sure letting me stay at your place and paying more than my standard rate in catering and styling fees covers everything,” she teased.

While Adrien got ready for his first day at Agreste Fashion, Marinette made breakfast. He was showered and dressed by the time she was setting out the cappuccinos.

“Well don’t you look dapper!” Marinette said admiringly when he came out onto the balcony.

Adrien gave a spin and then flashed open his jacket to showcase the lining.

She giggled at his antics and curtsied, “Join me for breakfast Mister Graham de Vanily?”

“Why of course, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he said with a theatrical bow, before they both took their seats.

“Thank you for cooking!” Adrien said as he cut into the perfectly poached egg Marinette had placed on his plate. “Do you have any plans for today besides work?”

Marinette nodded. “Aerial arts with Alya this evening, but that’s about it.”

“Unless my father keeps me late, I’ll be going to fencing this evening too,” Adrien said. “We can carpool if the time overlaps.”

“Perfect!” she gave him a thumbs up. “Did you figure out your dinner schedule for this week?” she added with a smirk.

“Tomorrow night I’m going to Mylène and Ivan’s, and then Friday night I’m going to hangout with Kim, Max, and Alix,” he said excitedly. “They told me to drag you along as well.”

Marinette laughed. “Well aren’t you the social butterfly! I can do dinner tomorrow, but unfortunately I have a catering gig on Friday.”

His face fell momentarily. “One is better than none, I suppose… what else do you have this week?”

Marinette pulled out her phone and looked over her calendar. “Work-wise: three fittings tomorrow and two on Wednesday, and catering a lunch on Thursday, that dinner on Friday, and a brunch on Saturday. The rest of the time I was planning on filling orders from here. Personal-wise: aerial today and Wednesday, can’t go Friday ‘cause of the gig; MMA Tuesday, Wednesday, and Saturday; weekly breakfast ritual with Alya on Friday; and dinner at my parents on Sunday, which you are welcome to come to again, of course.”

“Wow,” Adrien said. “When do you sleep?”

“In the words of the Almighty Alix: Will sleep when I’m dead,” she said, taking a bite of croissant.

After they finished cleaning up, Adrien grabbed the spare key off the hook and presented it to her with a flourish.

“Should we have a sock on the door system for rock outs?” she said with a smirk.

Adrien blushed then stuck his tongue out at her. “Oh, did I forget to mention that staying here means you have to take part?”

“Guess I better add ‘leather pants’ to my shopping list. Got any store recommendations?” she smiled slyly at him.

“Would you look at the time?” Adrien said turning quickly to his watch, trying not to imagine Marinette in tight leather. “I should get going.”

There was an awkward pause as each mentally debated whether a hug goodbye was appropriate. Marinette decided to go for it.

“Good luck today!” she said squeezing him. “Seriously, call or text me if you need anything.”

“Thank you!” he said. “Hope you have a productive day here.”

One final squeeze and Adrien headed out.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

Marinette did have an extremely productive day. She managed to finish filling all of the pending LadyBlog and boutique orders. She took a break around 1000 to watch the livestream of Alya’s interview with the Agrestes on the _Mediapart_ website. As predicted, Gabriel dominated the conversation, and the only time Adrien spoke was to briefly introduce himself, talk a little bit about his childhood, and to give a brief, obviously scripted, statement of appreciation for the opportunity to work with his father.

Gabriel’s excuse for keeping Adrien a secret until now was that he’d wanted Adrien to have a normal childhood, out of the public eye, and that he was bringing Adrien in now because he was hoping to retire soon and wanted to keep the company in the family if possible. If Adrien didn’t want to stay at the fashion house after a year, he would begin the search for an alternate predecessor.

Marinette rolled her eyes. _What a bunch of bull. I wonder what Gabriel Agreste’s true intentions are._

She shot Adrien a quick text of congratulations for surviving the interview.

**Hot Stuff:** Thanks! Alya was right, I had nothing to worry about.

**Mari:** How’s the rest of the morning been?

**Hot Stuff:** A little overwhelming… and now I’ll be bouncing from meeting to meeting the rest of the day. Should be back around 1715 to

change for fencing if you want a ride to class.

**Mari:** *thumbs up emoji ***** Perfect! See you then.

She was also interrupted by a phone call at 1300. It was the rental company. Marinette took a deep breath and answered, “Bonjour, Marinette Dupain-Cheng speaking.”

“Bonjour, Marinette! It’s Jacques calling about the lease for the storefront on Rue Dentelle.”

“Hi, yes! I was starting to worry you’d lost my contact information,” she tittered nervously.

“Sorry about that, madame. It’s been crazy at the office this week and there were a lot of offers on the storefront to sift through,” he replied apologetically.

“No worries! You’re calling now.”

“Well, let me be the first to offer you congratulations,” he continued, a smile evident in his tone. “You got the contract!”

Marinette’s mouth dropped open in disbelief. “Please tell me this isn’t some cruel prank.”

“Definitely not!” Jacques said jovially.

Marinette covered the speaker with her hand and gave a whoop of joy, jumping in excitement.

“Any chance you can come down to the office today or tomorrow to sign the paperwork?” he asked.

“Around noon tomorrow okay?” she said.

“I usually eat lunch at the office so that will work,” he replied. “See you then!”

Marinette wasted no time telling her parents and Alya the good news.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

Adrien returned home exactly at 1715 as promised.

“Did you end up going out at all today?” he asked a little too nonchalantly after he greeted her.

“Nope,” she said turning to him. “What’s up?”

Instead of replying, he took his phone from his pocket and opened the TVi News app on his phone.

Nadja Chamack appeared mid-sentence, “… have reporters on standby outside the Agreste Fashion House and what has been identified as Adrien Agreste’s apartment. Unfortunately, the newly uncovered heir made no comment when we caught up to him.”

The camera cut to a swarm of reporters standing in front of Adrien’s building as they surrounded his private car.

Marinette clapped a hand over her mouth and ran to the living room window. Sure enough, she could see that the street was lined with news vans and there was a gathering of people out on the sidewalk. A police barricade had been erected to prevent the onlookers from assaulting the poor doorman.

Nadja’s voice continued to speak from behind her, “Despite the lack of further communication from the Agreste PR department, TVi News has managed to dig up some interesting details and will be broadcasting an investigative report into the Agreste Scandal during...”

Adrien closed the app, silencing the reporter. Marinette pulled out her own phone and saw that the news had exploded. Every outlet was going crazy over Adrien.

“Shit,” Marinette said looking up at him.

He gave her a wry smile, “Shit indeed.”

“Should I… leave?” Marinette asked tentatively.

“What?” Adrien said startled. “Why?”

Marinette adopted her best news anchor voice, “Further developments in The Agreste Scandal. It appears Adrien Agreste has a mistress! Young fashionista, Marinette Dupain-Cheng, began residing with the young man mere days after discovering his true identity. The public is going wild with speculation: is this true love or merely a struggling designer’s manipulative means of breaking into the industry? Find out more in our exclusive exposé on this evening’s news.”

Adrien paled. “The thought never crossed my mind that your reputation might be in danger! I’m so sorry, Marinette! I can help pay to put you up some place else... or what if we just get ahead of the story?”

She looked at him puzzled. “Get ahead of the story?”

“Yeah!” he nodded vigorously and began pacing. “I’ll set-up another interview with Alya. One-on-one, as a means of helping the public to learn more about my personal life; people go gaga for celebrity gossip! I’ll just mention that I am rooming with a friend and put a kibosh on any rumors before they start.”

Marinette looked skeptical.

“Even if the tabloids try to go with that angle, no respectable news outlet will,” Adrien said. “And hopefully they all move on to something else by the end of the week… I totally get it if you don’t want to risk it though.”

She sighed. “No… getting ahead of it’s probably best. There are already too many people who have seen us together and/or know I’m staying here. Also…” she continued tentatively, averting her gaze. “I don’t actually want to live somewhere else…”

Marinette didn’t see the flood of relief that rushed across his face. “Great!” he said. “I’ll text Alya now!”

Marinette turned back to the window and watched the chaos down below as he pulled out his phone.

“Are you still interested in going to the gym?” he asked as he typed.

“Do you think that’s wise?” Marinette turned back to him, brow raised.

“There’s actually a private parking garage below the building,” he replied, sliding his phone back into his pocket. “G is going to swap out cars so hopefully no one will trail us to the gym.”

Her mouth formed a little “o” at the extravagance. “O-okay,” she squeaked.

“I’ll just go get changed and meet you back out here then,” he beamed. 

On the trek to the gym he told her all about his first day.

“Apparently my father wants me to experience all the aspects of the business. I’ll be modeling, offering my input on the design floor, and attending any and all company meetings occurring outside of those activities,” he sighed. “I was following after my father’s assistant, Nathalie, like a lost puppy all day today.”

Marinette gave him a sympathetic pat on the arm. “Once you know your way around, I’m sure it’ll get better.”

“I can dream,” he said smiling appreciatively at her. He looked like he was about to say more, but a look of apprehension crossed his features.

“Something bad happen?” she asked, nerves flaring as they had when she’d seen the wave of reporters outside his apartment complex.

“No!” he said a little too quickly. “It’s just… I was also told I will be required to attend Madame Bourgeois’s movie premiere this Saturday.”

She gaped at him. “No way! I expect a detailed breakdown of everyone’s attire afterwards.”

“I was actually wondering if you’d like to see the attire for yourself…” Adrien continued, cheeks turning pink.

She cocked her head at him, puzzled.

“That is…” he tried again, frustrated at his inability to speak with confidence when not wearing a mask. “Would you like to come with me?” he blurted.

Marinette was dumbstruck. “ _Me_? You want to take _me_ to the premiere?”

He couldn’t help but laugh. “Of course! Who else would I take?”

“W-well,” she spluttered. “Considering you are currently trending as Paris’s number one bachelor, literally anyone?”

His flush darkened. “There’s no one else I’d rather take.”

“In that case, I’d be honored Mister… wait, will you be going by Agreste now that the word is out?” Marinette asked.

“I don’t think I have much choice where the outside world is concerned,” he said with a frown. “But in my mind, I will always be a Graham de Vanily.”

“Okay then,” she said. “I’d be honored to attend the premiere with you Mister Graham de Vanily.”

“The honor is all mine, Miss Dupain-Cheng,” he grinned. “In all the excitement, I forgot to ask about your day.”

She laughed. “Great actually. I finished everything on my to do list _and_ got a call from the realtor: the lease for the boutique is mine!”

“Congratulations! I’ll cook something special tonight to celebrate!” Adrien cheered.

She wanted to tell him not to bother but G chose that moment to open the car door to let them know they’d arrived.

“I’ll probably be recognized by some of the staff and members,” Adrien said to G as he stepped out. “If we sneak out the back, can you meet us at the alleyway by McDonald’s a few blocks away?”

G gave an affirmative grunt before climbing back into the driver’s seat and easing the car back onto the road.

“I didn’t think my life could get any stranger, and then I met you,” Marinette laughed as she envisioned their escape from the gym later; her imagination overlaid with the theme music from _Mission Impossible_.

Adrien rubbed the nape of his neck sheepishly as they headed inside.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

Over the course of the week, Marinette and Adrien slipped into an easy domestic rhythm. Once they synced their calendars, it was really easy to coordinate a mutual schedule around meals and the gym. Adrien even persuaded Marinette to attend the early morning MMA classes for the week and Caecilia proved to be a wonderful accomplice for deterring the press.

Adrien also made good on his promise to thoroughly friend-zone Marinette on national news, which managed to be both a relief and disappointment to her.

Between evading the press, work, beginning the renovations on her new store, and hangouts with friends, Marinette was exhausted by the time Saturday morning rolled around. Adrien’s promise of a triple cappuccino was the only thing that convinced her to leave his bed, which she had continued to sleep in.

Thankfully, there hadn’t been any more Akuma attacks to add to her stress and she and Adrien were able to spend the afternoon in relaxed productivity as they had the previous Sunday. When 1500 rolled around, they went their separate ways to prepare for the evening’s festivities.

“You can turn around now,” Marinette said shyly as she stepped back into the living room.

Adrien’s mouth fell open when he turned to face her.

Over the course of that week, she’d secretly designed a [red cheongsam-style evening](https://www.cozyladywear.com/static/images/20180103/red-dip-hem-qipao-cheongsam-evening-dress-0d9a66d2-800x800.jpg) gown with gold accents. Her hair was shaped into an elegant bun held with ornate red and gold chopsticks, two loose tendrils out front, delicately twisted on either side of her face. Her make-up was similar to the night at _La Bibliothèque_ , subtle around the eyes with a bold red lip.

“You look beautiful,” he said, walking towards her.

“N-not too bad yourself,” she replied, blushing as he took her hand in his and bowed to place a kiss on the back of it.

Adrien was wearing a black tuxedo courtesy of Agreste Fashion but fitted to his personal style by Marinette who had somehow also found the time to make him a [dark green silk vest with subtle paisley embroidery](https://i.pinimg.com/originals/ec/88/64/ec886448e3df7833e5193005651d0a96.jpg) with matching bowtie and handkerchief.

The pair made their way down to the waiting limo and before long found themselves outside of the theater, waiting for their turn on the red carpet. As soon as they stepped onto the plush scarlet, they were assaulted by cameras and questions.

About halfway to the door, Marinette and Adrien were forced to stop at an interview station.

“Bonjour, Madame Dupain-Cheng and Monsieur Agreste! I’m Mireille Caquet with TVi News,” a woman with short dark hair and brown eyes introduced herself. “I have just a few questions for the red-carpet compilation.”

 _Thank kwami I’ve had to hold press conferences as Ladybug_ , Marinette thought as she smiled encouragingly at the young reporter who she recognized as a former KIDZ+ weather forecaster.

“Who are you wearing?” Mireille asked, holding her microphone out towards them.

“This is one of my original designs,” Marinette said, gesturing to her dress with the hand that was not looped through Adrien’s arm.

“And this tuxedo is Agreste with a touch of Dupain-Cheng,” Adrien answered, pointing at the vest and bowtie.

Mireille’s eyes twinkled mischievously. “Speaking of, does your presence together here tonight mean you’re no longer on the market?” she asked, turning to him.

“We’re just friends!” Marinette and Adrien said simultaneously. His hand immediately found the nape of his neck as they both turned pink under the glare of the camera lens.

Mireille laughed. “Sure,” she continued. “Will your father be in attendance this evening?” she redirected.

Adrien shook his head. “He is unable to attend the movie but will make a brief appearance at the reception at Le Grand Paris afterwards.”

Mireille looked like she wanted to continue the interview, but her producer was waving at her to keep the line moving.

“Well, I hope you both have a lovely evening,” she said.

Marinette and Adrien were swept the rest of the way along the red carpet and breathed twin sighs of relief when they finally made it inside the theater. A smartly dressed waiter immediately offered them champagne from a silver tray, which they gratefully accepted as they made their way to their seats. They’d timed their arrival such that they wouldn’t be forced to engage in small talk prior to the movie. There would be plenty of that at the reception afterwards.

Audrey Bourgeois gave a brief introduction to the film and after the credits rolled there was a short Q&A session. Marinette had never seen one of Audrey’s films and was pleasantly surprised by how much she enjoyed this one.

“My mom actually starred in the movie that launched Audrey’s career,” Adrien whispered conspiratorially into her ear as they made their way to the limo.

“Really? I’ve never seen a Bourgeois Film before tonight,” Marinette confessed. “I’d love to watch it with you sometime.”

“It’s a date,” he replied with a wink that caused them both to blush.

Nathalie Sancoeur met Marinette and Adrien in the lobby of Le Grand Paris. Marinette felt intimidated by the fierce looking woman wearing an [elegant maroon and black pantsuit](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/3e/9a/67/3e9a6735a0bcda5c55110addba019d49--business-suits-pantone-.jpg) with near floor length side tails.

“Your father wanted to see you as soon as you arrived,” she said in lieu of a greeting. “He needs to introduce you to a few people before he heads back to work. You are to come too, Madame Dupain-Cheng.”

The pair trailed her through the lobby and up the grand staircase to the ballroom where the reception was being held. The room had been filled with round tables covered in cream cloth and there was a string quartet playing on a small stage at the back of the hall. Waiters weaved amidst the tables and attendees offering drinks and hors d'oeuvres.

Instead of traversing the ballroom, Nathalie led them through a side door. They entered a corridor and found Gabriel Agreste waiting in an office halfway down the hall. He was dressed in a [bold red tuxedo](https://tse2.mm.bing.net/th?id=OIP.B3qSMYrQx3XRnL2V_s4cwgHaLH&pid=Api) paired with a white vest, wide cream and red tie, and white shoes; a stark contrast to the dark colors his son sported.

Gabriel raised one brow at his son’s outfit but offered no comment regarding the additions Marinette had made. Instead of warmly embracing Adrien, he merely nodded his head towards the pair, “Son. Madame Dupain-Cheng.”

Adrien returned the nod, “Father.”

Marinette wasn’t sure what to do in greeting. Gabriel Agreste hadn’t approached them or offered his hand. She opted for a slight curtsy, “It’s an honor to officially meet you, Monsieur Agreste.” She managed to perform the maneuver smoothly and inwardly sighed in relief at the ever so slight uptick her gesture had caused at the corner of Gabriel’s lips.

“As I’m sure Nathalie told you, I can’t stay long. I wanted to introduce you to a few more business partners and collaborators before I take my leave,” Gabriel said. “You’ll have to give the Bourgeois Family my regards when they arrive.”

“Yes, father,” Adrien said stiffly. 

Gabriel turned his cold eyes to Marinette. “Madame Dupain-Cheng, I want you to accompany us since my son has made a point to publicly associate himself with you, but I’d like to make it clear that these introductions are a mere formality and not meant to be personal recommendations within the industry.”

Marinette bristled.

“Father…” Adrien began, a harshness in his tone that Marinette had not thought him capable of.

She placed a hand on his arm to stop him.

“I understand, Monsieur Agreste,” she said coolly, meeting his steely gaze. “I expected nothing of the sort.”

“Excellent,” he said, continuing to bore into her. “I just wanted to ensure we were all on the same page. Just because you’ve wheedled your way into my son’s life does not mean you can make use of the Agreste name.”

Marinette could feel Adrien tense. His outrage on her behalf was nearly tangible. He wasn’t the only one. Somehow, she managed to keep the anger out of her voice when she replied.

“I don’t know what rumors you’ve been listening to, but I have no need for the Agreste name,” she said calmly. “My dedication and creativity have gotten me this far and are all I require to build my own brand. Adrien and I are friends. I’m here because I enjoy spending time with him, not for your good word.”

To her surprise, Gabriel smiled. It was almost worse than the glare. There was no warmth in the gesture; just sly amusement, as though he had expected Marinette to cower and found her unexpected confidence entertaining.

“Shall we?” he said, gesturing to the door through which the pair had entered.

Marinette nodded and turned gracefully on her heels, exiting the room first as Adrien held the door open for her.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

“I am so sorry about my father, Marinette,” Adrien apologized as soon as Gabriel left, and the pair found a relatively quiet area of the ballroom to have some alone time.

“His approach was twisted, but I think he’s only trying to protect you and his business,” Marinette said. Her anger had been significantly calmed by the numerous compliments she’d received on her dress from the various guests Gabriel had introduced them to.

Adrien scoffed.

“Think about it,” she said. “His supposedly unknown son just happens to befriend a budding fashion designer _and_ invites her to live with him days after meeting her. It even sounds crazy to me when I say it aloud. If I hadn’t lived through the odd series of events and felt the effortless way we fit together, I would share his suspicions.”

Adrien opened his mouth to ask her how exactly she saw them fitting together when a sudden shriek carried across the room. 

“Adrikins?!”

The pair turned to see Chloé running full tilt at Adrien, a surprising feat considering the four-inch heels she was sporting.

She crashed into him and to Marinette’s surprise he greeted her with similar enthusiasm, lifting her up and spinning her in a circle. “Chlo!”

“What are you doing in Paris?!” Chloé cried.

“My father asked me to come work for him,” Adrien said. “Haven’t you been watching the news?”

Chloé waved her hand dismissively. “I’ve been shut up in my room all week on back-to-back conference calls. The only thing I have been reading are case briefs…”

Adrien suddenly remembered himself and took a step back.

“Sorry, Mari,” he said apologetically. “Marinette, this is Chloé Bourgeois; Chloé this is...”

“Marinette Dupain-Cheng,” the blonde girl said with a scowl. She was wearing [the dress](http://www.inspirationbycolor.com/wp-content/uploads/2016/07/Basil-Soda-Couture-FW-16-17-Yellow-and-black-dress.jpg) Marinette had oh-so-carefully altered, paired with a bold red lip, and high-fashion side ponytail. Surprisingly, the bee comb was also part of her ensemble for the evening.

 _Wonder if it’s some sort of family heirloom,_ Marinette thought, squinting at it with vague recognition.

“What are _you_ doing here?” Chloé sneered at her, interrupting her train of thought.

“Oh!” Adrien said looking back and forth between them. “You two know each other?”

“We were stuck together all through collège and lycée,” Marinette said with a laugh.

“Wait!” Chloé said in sudden realization. “ _You_ two know each other?”

“We actually _live_ together,” Marinette said, reveling in the expression of shock and dismay that befell Chloé’s face. Until she realized how Adrien must know Chloé.

“Chloé was _that_ childhood friend?!” she turned to him aghast.

Adrien blushed fiercely. He had somehow managed to forget that he’d revealed the story of how he lost his virginity during _Truth or Drink_.

“Uhmm…” Adrien stalled.

Another look of annoyance graced Chloé’s face as she sneered, “What do you mean _that_ childhood friend?”

“Nothing!” Marinette and Adrien said quickly.

“I have to go to the bathroom!” Marinette continued swiftly. “I’ll catch up with you later,” she added to Adrien, squeezing his hand lightly before turning to go.

“Seriously, what was all that about?” Chloé asked as she watched Marinette’s retreating back.

“It’s not worth getting into,” Adrien said. “How have you been?!” he questioned, trying to redirect her.

Chloé’s eyes lit up. Getting her to talk about herself had always worked when they were kids. _Nice to see some things never change_ , he thought with a grin as she began to speak a mile a minute about everything that had happened to her since the night of her goodbye party.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

Marinette didn’t actually need to use the restroom, but there was no one at the party she wanted to speak to besides Adrien, so she thought she’d take the opportunity to check her make-up and shoot Alya a text.

She left the grand ballroom and walked down the hallway towards the bathroom, the sounds of the quartet and mingling following as she went.

Surprisingly, there was no one else in the bathroom and Marinette took her time re-applying her lipstick and going over her face with another dusting of finishing powder to ward off shininess. She took her phone out of the red and gold clutch she’d bought to match her dress, smiling briefly at Tikki who was nibbling on some macaroons.

**Mari:** Hiding out in bathroom. You’ll never guess who Adrien’s childhood friend is…

**BFF:** NO! O_O

**Mari:** Gonna try to rescue him. Will tell you all about it tomorrow!

**BFF:** Small fucking world. Luv u! Enjoy Adrien, I mean the party *wink*

Marinette slipped her phone back into her clutch and, after a final glance at her reflection, washed her hands and turned to head back to the ballroom.

The first thing Marinette noticed when she stepped out of the bathroom was that it was eerily quiet. She thought she’d been able to hear the quartet from the hallway, but either she was mistaken, or they had stopped playing.

As she walked back towards the ballroom, her apprehension grew. Gone were the hotel staff and other guests who had been milling about in the hallway sitting areas. Gone were the distant sounds of Parisian traffic. If she hadn’t been able to hear her own breath, she would have wondered if she’d gone deaf.

The ballroom was completely deserted. Everything from the reception was still present, but it looked like everyone had been in a rush to get out. Chairs had been knocked over and the musicians had abandoned their instruments. She surveyed the room for any signs of life and, seeing none, began to slip into a full-blown panic.

“Tikki,” she said quietly. “Something weird is happening.”

No whispered response emanated from her bag.

Tikki?” Marinette said, opening the clutch.

Her eyes widened in horror. There was no little red god in her bag. She reached up to her earlobes and went numb at the realization that her earrings were also gone.

She ran back into the hallway and pummeled down the grand staircase to the lobby. As on the floor above, there was not a soul or sound to be found. She caught sight of a wavering orange light through the front of the building and was immediately assaulted by the sight of the city.

All the front windows on the first floor of the hotel had been shattered. The glass was lying on the floor inside, indicating that there had been some sort of explosion that caused the glass to break. The orange light was coming from a large fire emanating from the building next door. All the buildings Marinette could see were damaged in some way; a few had even collapsed, spilling rubble into the road and on top of a few stalled cars. And, there were bodies as far as the eye could see.

Marinette was too stunned to move. She’d only been in the bathroom for 15 minutes max. How had she failed to hear this level of destruction being caused right outside the building?

That’s when she noticed that it was still completely silent, and her fear doubled. _There should be sirens_.

She walked towards the front doors, trying her best to avoid the broken glass on the floor, and walked out onto the street. She had to fight the urge to wretch as she approached the nearest body. It was the cellist from the reception.

Half of her body was completely charred, as though she had turned to run from the blast but not nearly fast enough. Shrapnel and broken glass had cut every inch of exposed skin and Marinette could see that a large piece of metal was embedded in the woman’s neck. Given the sizable pool of blood, it appeared that the mechanism of death was not directly from the blast but from the severance of her carotid artery. But it wasn’t the physical injuries that made Marinette most queasy; it was the look of sheer, incomprehensible terror on the woman’s face.

Marinette stood and considered checking the rest of the bodies to see if anyone was merely severely injured instead of dead, but after visually sweeping the scene decided that would be a futile exercise. Everyone she could see was too twisted and mangled for survival to be possible.

She recognized most of them from the premiere and her heart began to beat wildly in her chest. She breathed a small sigh of relief when she didn’t see any sign of Adrien among these dead. _But that doesn’t mean he’s okay_ , she reminded herself. _Where’s Tikki? Where are the other Miraculous wielders?_

Marinette wasn’t sure what her next step should be. Her instinctive response was to run and start screaming in an attempt to locate anyone who might be able to tell her what happened. Her intuitive response was to try and stay as inconspicuous as possible as she tried to hunt for answers. If this was the fault of an Akuma than it could still be on the prowl. Powers or not, it was her responsibility to free the Akumatized victim and fix the catastrophic damage. The Eiffel Tower was one of the Miraculous users go-to meeting spots, so she decided to start there.

She looked back down and noticed that the cellist was wearing a pair of flats, which looked to be about her size. Despite her revulsion, she quickly swapped her heels for the more sensible shoes.

The entire walk to the Eiffel Tower unveiled greater and greater horrors. Luckily, she didn’t come across anyone else she recognized. Marinette was overwhelmed by the sheer volume of destruction and death. If this had been caused by an Akuma, Hawkmoth had really outdone himself this time. She didn’t let herself think about the possibility that the damage hadn’t been caused by a magical supervillain; something the Miraculous Ladybug Cure would have no effect on.

She felt like the only person who had survived the apocalypse.

As she approached the tower, she saw a line of bodies carefully arranged at the base. When she was close enough to identify them, she collapsed to her knees.

Her parents were at the far end, mangled almost beyond recognition, followed by all her friends. Alya had a large hole in her chest where her heart had been removed, and was covered in bite marks, scratches, and bruises; as though whatever had killed her had been torturing her first. The others - Nino, Alix, Rose, Juleka, Kim, Max, Mylène, and Ivan - had been similarly treated save for the lethal blow, which in all cases appeared to be a deep incision across the throat. She still didn’t see Adrien and wondered if the Akuma was working on inflicting the same injuries to him at this very moment.

“Ah, princess. You’ve finally arrived,” purred a voice from behind her.

Marinette jerked her head towards the sound but found no one.

A claw trailed along the right side of her jaw, leaving a thin trail of pain in its wake, before a hand tugged her face forward again. She found herself staring into electric blue eyes behind a white mask.

“No,” Marinette choked, shaking her head in disbelief as tears began to stream down her cheeks.

The young man smiled darkly at her, bloodstains flecking his lips and teeth, and cocked his blonde, cat-eared head towards the line of bodies behind him. “What? Don’t you like the _purr_ -esents I brought you?”

She pulled away from him. “Chat Noir, please tell me you didn’t do all of this.”

He frowned at her, tail flicking in agitation. “Chat Noir is dead,” he hissed. “I’m Chat Blanc.”

She reached up and cupped both of his cheeks in her hands. “Chat Noir, we can fix this. Just tell me where the Akuma is and we can figure out how to purify it.”

Marinette was greeted by another Cheshire smile. “Why would I help you do that when I’m having so much fun?”

She noticed he no longer had a bell on his collar, so she looked down at his ring. It seemed the most likely candidate. She tried to make a grab for it, but he caught her hands in his and spun her into his chest, pinning her body against his and trapping her arms at her sides.

“Tsk tsk, princess,” he purred in her ear. “I said I’m _feline_ fine the way I am. How about instead of chasing Akuma, we play a little game of Chat and Mousinette?”

She shivered in fear and felt something sharp prick her neck before her vision went black.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

Adrien took another visual sweep of the ballroom. Still no Marinette. She’d been gone for at least 20 minutes at this point.

 _Maybe she’s chatting with someone out in the hall_ , he considered, though the thought did nothing to quiet the nagging sensation of worry settling within.

That’s when the screaming started.

Initially it came from outside the ballroom doors, but within seconds a flood of terrified partygoers burst through the door, as though they were being herded back into the reception hall.

Chloé got caught up in the onslaught and was swept towards the quartet in back. Adrien immediately took advantage of the chaos and concealed himself underneath a nearby table, quietly calling on Plagg to get his “Claws Out.”

Guised as Chat Noir, his first instinct was to rush out in search of the cause, especially because it seemed to be coming from where Marinette was most likely to be. He managed to quash the urge and think more strategically like Ladybug.

Chat stayed hidden, peering out from underneath the tablecloth. He was rewarded when a pair of bare, bone-white feet appeared in his line of sight. A swirling black cloak made from a smoke-like fabric floated behind the being and there came the rhythmic thunk of a wooden staff striking the floor.

When the feet were past, Chat slipped out and peered around the corner of the table.

The feet clearly belonged to an akumatized villain. The Akuma was at least 7 feet tall and, as far as Chat could tell from behind, was completely swathed in a strange black cloak that shifted about the figure despite the absence of wind. And, it was not a staff the Akuma wielded. It carried a sharp, bloodstained scythe in its right hand.

The Akuma floated steadily towards the terrified partygoers who were cowered at the far end of the reception hall.

A man who had been hiding behind a table on the opposite side of the room from Chat suddenly bolted out and made a run for the door. The Akuma turned and Chat ducked back just in time to avoid its gaze. Chat watched in horror as a slash of red light hit the running man in the back, leaving a deep gouge in his flesh through his suit jacket.

The man fell to the floor with a cry, level to Chat. Despite the pain and blood gushing from the wound on his back, the man continued to try and crawl towards the door. Chat could hear the Akuma slowly approaching. It bent over the man and ran its hand along the edge of the incision, caressing the man’s inflamed skin. He instantly stilled.

Chat balked, fearing that the Akuma was able to kill with a single touch, but breathed a silent sigh of relief when he saw that the man was merely asleep. His respite was short-lived, however. Within seconds the sleeping man began to shriek and bat at invisible creatures crawling all over his body.

“Spiiiiiiiiiiders,” a deep voice sighed. “How unoriginal… at least the beauty by the bathroom is continuing to arouse The Boogeyman’s interest.”

_Could he be talking about Marinette?_

The Boogeyman turned away from the man and resumed his steady approach towards the crowd at the end of the hall.

Chat was still weighing his options when he noticed that the sleeping man had begun to develop an angry vesicular rash over every part of exposed skin. The vesicles ruptured rapidly, covering the man in oozing liquid as his flesh went from an angry red to a sickly purple-green.

_What the fuck!_

The man began to seize and then moved no more, eyes open and rolled back in a death stare.

_Shit, shit, shit! I can’t let the Akuma touch anyone else!_

“Hey, Boogerman!” Chat said as he left the safety of his table and leapt into the center of the ballroom. “Fancy a _Chat_?”

Despite not being his best work, Chat hadn’t expected his outburst to fall so completely flat.

“In due time, Kitty Cat. In due time,” the deep voice patronized as the Akuma continued to move towards the terrified crowd.

“Oi!” Chat tried again. “Aren’t you supposed to be burglarizing me?”

“Hawkmoth would prefer I did that first yes,” The Boogeyman replied without turning around. “But I’d rather watch everyone’s world burn.”

_Awesome._

The only thing worse than an Akuma was an Akuma that defied Hawkmoth. And Ladybug was still nowhere to be seen.

!@#$%^&*()(*&^%$#@!

Marinette woke up in the middle of a street she didn’t recognize. Chat Blanc was prowling back and forth on all fours next to her but stopped when he saw her stir. He sat back on his haunches and watched her, eyes bright and tail twitching in excitement.

“I was beginning to worry that my cat nip was a little too strong,” he said.

Marinette bolted up, immediately regretting the action when her head swam. Chat padded over to her and gently licked the spot on her neck he’d bitten earlier. To Marinette’s chagrin, the sensation sent a not-entirely-unpleasant shiver down her spine.

Chat must have sensed her traitorous pheromones because he chuckled and nuzzled her head with his. “This is why I saved you for last,” he purred. “We’re going to have _meow_ -tains of fun together.”

The sight of her dead and mangled loved ones passed through her mind and she roughly pushed him away.

“I’m not going to let you toy with me, Chat,” Marinette said. “If you’re going to kill me anyway, just get it over with.”

He cocked his head at her, tail swishing dangerously. “Oh really?” he said. “Even if winning the game means saving your precious Adrien?”

Marinette stiffened. “What have you done to him?” she asked, eyes narrowed.

“He’s _purr_ -fectly _feline_ ,” Chat drawled as he examined his claws. “Safer than you to be sure,” he grinned up at her.

Marinette sighed in resignation.

“I’ll play your game, kitty,” she said. She couldn’t help adding the moniker; underneath it all, he was still her Chaton after all.

His smile grew broader, bringing Marinette’s attention to his elongated canines.

“Please tell me it’s Ultimate Mecha Strike III,” Marinette whispered.

“No, princess,” he laughed. “We’re playing tag, of course!”

“Of course,” she muttered, eyeing his claws. “Seems perfectly fair,” she added sarcastically.

The terrifying grin was still plastered across his face. “You didn’t let me finish! You’ll get a head start of course and have the whole city to hide in, and I promise not to use my baton or power of Destruction.”

“So… no restrictions on the claws or fangs then?” she said raising her eyebrow. “Does that mean I get some sort of weapon?”

“You’re free to use anything you can find,” Chat shrugged. “It hardly matters to me.”

 _What a cocky piece of shit!_ she thought vehemently. _Challenge on, pussycat._

“And how long is my head start?” she said, pulling herself up.

Chat handed her a stopwatch. The timer was set to 60 minutes. “Better get moving, princess.”

Marinette kept her eyes on him as she left; she couldn’t trust him as far as she could throw him. But he kept his word and stayed perfectly still, facing away from her. As soon as she ducked into a side alley, Marinette took off running.

First order of business was to figure out how to limit Chat Blanc’s ability to track her. She needed to block her scent, stay quiet, and keep in mind that he could see in the dark. An idea immediately popped into her head about how to cover her scent, but it sounded awful.

“No getting around it,” she muttered.

She skidded to a stop and looked around. In order to blend in with the death and decay, she needed to smell like death and decay. There was a woman halfway down the block whose head had been smashed open by falling rubble. She kneeled down and took a deep breath before plunging her hands into the mixture of blood, soot, and broken stone next to the woman’s body. Once her hands were thoroughly coated in the muck, she rubbed it over her hair and every inch of exposed skin, which was a lot considering she was still in her premiere dress. Marinette immediately ran back into the store and used the employee restroom to wash her hands with the miraculously still running tap water.

She glanced back at the watch: 50 minutes and counting.

_What would the cat least expect?_

She looked up at a store down the street, and for the first time since this whole nightmare began, she smiled.

!@#$%^&*())(*&^%$#@!

Chat leapt at The Boogeyman’s back, bringing his baton down in a powerful swing. At the last moment, the Akuma turned and blocked the hit with the shaft of the scythe. Chat almost lost his grip at the sight of the Akuma’s pale, skeletal face and glowing red eyes but managed to continue his attack in an attempt to give the onlookers time to escape. Adrien was a fair swordsman, and some of those skills translated to Chat’s baton. 

Most of the crowd was able to flee the ballroom, but a few of the guests had been trampled slightly in the rush to keep out of the Akuma’s grasp and were sprawled in various states of injury on the floor. Chat realized with a jolt that Chloé was among the unconscious.

When The Boogeyman blocked Chat’s next blow, he took one hand off his weapon and swiped at Chat’s exposed head.

The black cat was able to backflip to safety, but the Akuma took the opportunity to run his hands along all the abandoned partygoers, Chloé included.

Chat could only pray that their nightmares were less lethal than the man with arachnophobia.

With each new victim under his sleeping spell, The Boogeyman shivered in delight. Chat felt little sympathy for the horrific human that must have been turned to create such a monster.

“Just you and me now, Chat Noir,” The Boogeyman said, turning his horrible visage on the superhero. “Though once I’m done with you, I shall have the rest of the hotel and then the city as my playground. Hawkmoth can come claim your Miraculous for himself while you slumber.”

“Getting ahead of yourself, aren’t you?” Chat jeered.

“One of my dreamers seems to be handling an akumatized version of you quite well,” The Boogeyman quipped. “It gives me great confidence in my ability to defeat you.”

The black cat faltered.

“Yeeeeees,” The Boogeyman hissed, gliding a few steps forward. “One Marinette Dupain-Cheng is having the most delectable nightmare about _you_. I could sleep with her for hours.”

“Shut your fucking mouth,” Chat bristled.

“I can end her nightmare now if that’s what you wish,” The Boogeyman continued evenly. “Encourage you to kill her quickly as I touch myself to her screams.”

“I SAID SHUT YOUR FUCKING MOUTH!” Chat shouted as he leapt at the Akuma, baton raised.

The Boogeyman swiped out with his scythe, sending red blades flying towards Chat midjump. Chat used his baton to parry the attack but missed the Akuma gliding closer. As soon as the superhero touched down, The Boogeyman was upon him.

!@#$%^&*())(*&^%$#@!

Alya and Nino were flipping idly through channels looking for something to watch when an emergency alert popped onto the screen.

“This is Nadja Chamack with TVi News, interrupting your scheduled programming to deliver a breaking bulletin about an ongoing Akuma attack at Le Grand Paris hotel!” said the familiar onscreen reporter.

“Shit,” Alya said sitting up. “That’s where the reception for the premiere is being held! Marinette, Adrien, and my maman are there…”

Nadja continued her report, “We don’t know who the akumatized person is or why they were transformed but a few people who were able to escape in the initial stages of the attack said that he is calling himself The Boogeyman. Anyone he touches falls into a deep slumber. While they sleep, they acquire injuries without being physically attacked, a few victims even appear to have died without ever waking up.

“The akumatized victim appears to be defying Hawkmoth; using his powers for his own gratification and not to steal from the other Miraculous wielders. Given the lethality of his powers and Hawkmoth’s loss of control, the police are classifying this as a Level 5 Akuma and urge everyone in Paris to shelter in place until the safety alarm sounds.

“There are some accounts that Chat Noir is already in the building, but that he may have fallen under the supervillain’s power. So far there have been no sightings of Ladybug, Rena Rouge, Queen Bee, or Carapace.

“This message will continue to play on repeat throughout the city to ensure everyone has been informed of the situation. I will return live if we are given any new information, or if the supervillain is detained. Once again this is Nadja Chamack with TVi News. Stay sharp and stay safe!”

The emergency Akuma alert screen blared for a few seconds and then the footage began to repeat as promised.

Alya shut off the TV and leapt to her feet.

“We have to go!” she said, running to her room.

Nino leapt up after her and grabbed her arm. “Didn’t you hear what she said, babe?! This is a Level 5 Akuma! I don’t care how much the LadyBlog means to you, it’s not worth your life!”

She rolled her eyes, “Stupid turtle.”

Nino froze. “What did you…”

“I know you’re Carapace!” she shouted, shaking off his grip.

His eyes darted anxiously around the room. “I have no idea what you’re talking about,” he said in a voice that sounded unconvincing even to his own ears.

“We don’t have time for this,” she said grabbing his shoulders and shaking him gently. “We have to get to Le Grand Paris and help contain the Akuma until Ladybug arrives!”

His mouth dropped open. “We?”

Alya released him and slapped a palm to her forehead in frustration. “I’m Rena Rouge, you idiot.”

The look of shock on Nino’s face deepened, his mouth opening and closing soundlessly as he tried to find words.

Two tiny ears sprouted out of Alya’s hair, followed quickly by huge purple eyes and a small snout. “Just needed to see the look on his face,” the fox kwami said, eyeing Nino with a sly grin.

“Let's Pounce!” Alya said.

The little fox was immediately sucked into her necklace and there was a flash of bright orange light that caused Nino to close his eyes. When he opened them, Rena Rouge was standing where his girlfriend had been.

Before he could open his mouth, Alya cut him off. “Nope, I don’t wanna hear it now. We save the day first and talk about our mutual superhero status second. Just say the activation phrase, loverboy.”

“Shell On,” Nino croaked weakly. His hat rattled as the tiny turtle hiding within was sucked into the jade bracelet on his wrist. One bright flash of green later and he was Carapace.

Rena gave him a quick peck on the cheek. “That’s my man,” she said with a wink. “Now let’s go kick some Boogeybutt.”

She took off through the window and after a beat of stupefied amazement, Carapace followed after her.

!@#$%^&*())(*&^%$#@!

Chloé was sitting in her room at Le Grand Paris prepping for her next case when a loud knock came at the door. She hadn’t been expecting anyone so she was still clad in her [silk pajamas](https://www.lunya.co/products/washable-silk-set?variant=31349001060395) and was wearing a face mask.

She closed her laptop and stood as another round of hard knocking rattled the door.

“I’m coming!” she yelled.

“You better have a damn good reason for interrupting me, Jean,” she said as she swung open the door, only to be confronted by an army of law enforcement officers.

“Madame Bourgeois?” asked the detective in front.

“Duh,” Chloé said, “Who else would I be?”

“I just didn’t realize you had a skin condition, madame,” he said with a smirk.

“It’s a face mask you uncultured swine!” she said forcefully. “Now why are you bothering me at home?”

“Madame Bourgeois, my name is Detective Poirot and you are under arrest for fraud and tax evasion,” he said firmly grabbing her wrist and dragging her from the apartment. The rest of the men quickly filed into her room and began to search it.

“What?!?” Chloé shrieked, trying to struggle out of his grasp.

“You really don’t want to fight me, madame,” he said pinning her against the wall and fastening her hands behind her back with a pair of cuffs.

“This is outrageous! I am a member of the Parisian elite and a world-renowned attorney!” she roared in indignation.

“And I’m Marie Antoinette,” Detective Poirot responded with a laugh.

Chloé pushed off the wall, knocking into the detective and cutting off his laughter. “Unhand me this instant!” she continued to yell, trying to shake off his grip.

The detective waved over one of his comrades and they each gripped one of her arms and frog-marched her to the elevator. She continued to struggle when they reached the bottom floor and began trying to drag her across the lobby.

The back of her head collided with Detective Poirot’s nose and he instantly released her to clutch at the blood that started to pour out of it.

His colleague’s grasp also loosened and Chloé was able to break free. She saw her father and mother beginning to ascend the grand staircase and flung herself after them.

“Papa! Maman!” she yelled as she reached them. “Help! These men are trying to take me to jail.”

They both flinched away from her in disgust. “We have no children!” Audrey Bourgeois said, looking horrified at the very thought.

“Jean!” André Bourgeois yelled to the nearby butler. “Get this woman away from us immediately!”

“Of course, sir!” Jean called as he strode over and stood between Chloé and parents, who were rapidly making their escape.

“Get out of my way, Jean!” Chloé cried as she saw Detective Poirot and his friend approaching from behind.

“Madame,” Jean said as politely as he could through his repugnance. “You are merely one of the many guests currently residing in this establishment. And we were informed today that you have been staying here under false pretenses, pretending to be a distant relative of the hotel owners and using stolen credit cards to pay for your accommodations. For your own sake, I recommend you go quietly with these detectives.”

Chloé tried to dodge around him, but at that point the detectives had caught her again and were drawing her outside.

“Papa! Maman!” she tried yelling one more time as they pulled her out the front door. Neither Audrey nor André turned to acknowledge her screams.

Chloé was distracted by sudden flashes of light all around her.

“Madame Bourgeois! Madame Bourgeois!” a man shoved a microphone into her face. “Can you tell us your real name?”

“Madame Bourgeois!” came a woman with another microphone. “What made you decide to forge your law degree documentation?”

“Madame Bourgeois!” came a shout from someone in the crowd of reporters she couldn’t see. “How does it feel to be arrested in your pajamas whilst in the middle of a facial?”

Everyone around her burst into laughter as more camera flashes went off.

Chloé had no idea what was going on, but her reputation was ruined, and her parents had rejected her. She wanted to curl up and die.

!@#$%^&*())(*&^%$#@!

Chat Noir could hear a woman screaming.

His entire body hurt, and his arms were in searing pain. He tried to move them but found that his wrists were held together by something that was immobilizing his arms above his head.

He cracked his eyes open and abruptly shut them again. He was in a blindingly white room lit by bright overhead lights. Chat slowly opened his eyes and blinked rapidly as they adjusted to his new surroundings.

He couldn’t remember being knocked out. _Purr-haps the akumatized victim snuck up behind me,_ he pondered. However, his head wasn’t pounding in the usual way it did when he’d been knocked out during battle.

“Get away from me!” the voice he’d heard earlier screamed behind him.

A chill ran through his body; the voice sounded like Marinette.

Chat saw that he was hanging by his arms from a rope tied to the ceiling, his feet barely brushing the floor. He swiveled around to face the voice using the tips of his toes.

There was a TV screen on the wall. It was broadcasting a live feed of surveillance video from the carriage of a subway train. For some reason, the train was stalled on the tracks; trapping the occupants in the dark tunnel.

Marinette was on the train and she was surrounded by three large leering men.

Chat started to struggle fiercely against his bonds.

“Come on, sweetheart,” one of them said as he stepped forward. “We’ve been working hard all day. Can’t you reward us with a little treat?”

When he was within reach Marinette moved lightning fast, jabbing him once in the throat and then kneeing him in the balls as he bent forward clutching his neck. He fell to the ground coughing and spluttering, but his two friends had already started to move in on her.

She fought hard but the odds were completely unmatched, and they managed to each grab one of her arms and pin her against the locked train door.

By that point, the third man had recovered, and he looked pissed. He strode over to Marinette and backhanded her across the face so hard that her head snapped back and hit the door. When she looked back at the man, there was a large red mark on her face and a cut on her lip from where she had bitten herself.

“Your gonna pay for that, bitch,” the man growled, putting a hand around her throat and forcing her head back.

“No!” Chat yelled. He grabbed onto the rope with his hands and used his abs to bring his feet up. He placed one on either side of the hook and pushed off the ceiling with all his superpowered might. The plaster around the hook cracked and the hook broke free, sending Chat spilling onto the floor and dislocating his shoulder in the process.

Despite the pain he jumped up immediately and ran around the room, searching for a way out. His attempts were in vain, the walls were perfectly smooth and seamless.

He turned back to the screen and saw that the man had ripped open Marinette’s white blouse and was starting to unbutton her black slacks.

“Cataclysm!” Chat called desperately. He pressed his hand quickly against the wall and the entire room, including the TV dissolved.

It was nighttime and Chat was standing at the top of the Eiffel Tower. He whipped around in search of the nearest métro entrance. As soon as he spotted one, he wrenched his shoulder back into the joint and took off, just as his Miraculous gave out its first beep.

 _Fuck!_ he thought as soon as he reached the track. _How am I going to figure out which tunnel she’s in?_

He wracked his brain. She’d been wearing her catering attire and it was past midnight, so she was probably heading home from a job. Only one line stopped at the station near their apartment. His only hope was that she had already transferred to that line. His ring beeped again.

Using his baton for navigation he made his way to the tunnel containing Marinette’s usual train. He closed his eyes and listened closely, noticing for the first time that he hadn’t come across or heard any other trains in the subway. His left ear twitched in response to the sound of distant sobs.

He ran down the tunnel on all fours, making it to the stalled train in seconds. He smashed the closest window with his fist and dove through the new opening.

Marinette was crumpled in a heap by one of the doors. One of the men had tossed his jacket on top of her. Chat could see her pants and the torn remains of her underwear piled carelessly beside her still form.

The men, who had been laughing and lounging around the subway carriage, had turned at the sound of the breaking glass and were staring at him in recognition and fear. His Miraculous sounded for a third time.

Chat let out an inhuman yowl and threw himself at the men. They tried to scramble away from him, but Chat was too fast. His razor-sharp claws sliced through one man’s neck, and the arterial spray from the injury splattered the carriage walls. Another man he kicked so hard in the head with his steel toed boots that the side of his skull caved in with a sickening crunch.

The ringleader had gone for Marinette instead of trying to run away. When Chat turned to face him, he was holding a knife to the unconscious girl’s throat.

“One more step and I’ll slice her open like you did to my buddy there,” he said coolly, stroking Marinette’s cheek with his other hand.

Chat bristled and narrowed his eyes. Before the man could blink, Chat pulled out his baton and extended it. The end drove straight through the man’s left eye and out the back of his head, splattering brain matter and bone on the train door.

Chat retracted his baton and the man’s body slumped to the left and toppled to the floor. 

Revenge achieved, Chat dove over to Marinette and pulled the girl into his arms, careful to keep her covered by the coat. Her heartbeat was faint, and she was breathing much too slowly and shallowly. When he touched his forehead to hers, it was deathly cold.

His Miraculous gave another ominous beep.

!@#$%^&*())(*&^%$#@!

Chat was exactly where’d she left him. It seemed as though he hadn’t moved a muscle.

Marinette was now sheathed in fencer’s garb; nicked from the sporting goods store she’d come across. She figured it would give her some protection in her head-to-head battle with Chat Blanc. She’d taken the time to roll around in more muck after dawning the protective gear and hoped the additional layer of blood and rubble would be enough to cover her scent as she snuck up on the unsuspecting cat.

She took a quick peek at the stopwatch before abandoning it in the alleyway; 10 minutes to spare.

Suddenly, the top floor of the building to Chat’s left exploded. The startled boy hissed and jumped to face the noise, ears pressed flat against his head.

Marinette smirked from the shadows. Her plan was progressing impeccably.

She edged stealthily towards Chat as the floor below the first exploded; covering the sound of her footsteps.

When the third floor blew, Marinette sprinted forward and successfully snatched the baton from Chat Blanc’s back just as he noticed the sound of her scuttling feet.

She managed to tuck and roll out of his reach before he could swipe at her with his deadly claws. In the process, she tumbled over a sharp rock that jabbed into her thigh through the breeches. Luckily, the cloth didn’t tear, but Marinette still hobbled slightly when she got to her feet and knew she’d find a bruise at the site of impact tomorrow if she managed to survive the night.

Chat’s eyes widened in surprise as he turned to face her.

“You said I could use any weapon I could find,” Marinette called as she extended the baton to a length of 5 or so feet.

“So I did, princess,” he smirked, taking in the rest of her appearance. “You really think that uniform will stop me from slicing you to ribbons?”

“Better than my evening gown,” she shrugged.

The empty street was well lit by the burning building behind Chat, so he didn’t have the visual advantage over her.

She’d been working with Chat long enough to know his strengths and weaknesses. He was fast and excellent with the baton but rubbish at hand-to-hand combat, relying purely on his enhanced strength and sharp claws. His suit protected him from severe injury, but akumatized villains with certain abilities, like Arachne’s venom, or tools were often able to break through the tough material. She figured his baton might be the same way; able to injure a Miraculous wielder by the mere fact that it was a Miraculous weapon.

_I just need to get close and destroy the ring. At least if the Akuma is released, Chat Noir can tell me what happened to the Ladybug earrings._

Like clockwork, her final bomb went off, destroying a fourth floor of the adjacent building. Chat flinched towards it and Marinette took her shot, running forward and swinging the baton at his midsection.

The baton caught him in the chest as he turned back towards her and sent him flying into the side of nearby car. A few seconds later, he fell forward out of the dent he’d made, catching himself on all fours and gasping for breath. She’d confirmed her theory and managed to knock the wind out of him.

Marinette didn’t let him get a chance to recover. She ran forward and struck down at the top of his head, sending Chat sprawling face first into the concrete. Unfortunately, when she tried to strike another blow, he rolled out of the way and the baton struck asphalt, sending a painful jolt up her arms.

In the time it took her to recover, he had staggered to his feet and was flexing his claws at her. Her reflexes were barely quick enough to block the series of strikes that followed. He swiped furiously at her, pushing her back until she was pressed up against the car.

With his next swipe, Chat sent her fencing mask flying. To avoid further blows, she dropped to the ground and swept her right leg out, kicking Chat’s feet out from under him and sending him flat on his back.

Marinette fell on top of him and trapped him in a pseudo-Brazilian Jiu Jitsu side control position. Unfortunately, this left his hands free to claw at her back. As he tore through the jacket and began to hit skin, she cried out but only relinquished enough of her grip to allow him to get his feet under her hips.

She braced herself as he used the leverage to push her off. When she hit the ground she was able to roll with the impact and come to a stand several feet away from Chat.

He jumped to his feet and froze.

Marinette had managed to grasp onto his ring and had tugged it free when he sent her flying.

Before Chat could move, she threw it to the ground and smashed the butt of the baton down on it; instantly grinding the metal band to dust.

When Marinette raised her eyes at him in triumph, she was shocked to find him laughing. Her head snapped back down to the destroyed ring. There was no purple butterfly in sight.

“B-but…” she stuttered, looking back up at Chat Blanc.

“My dear, sweet Marinette,” Chat cooed. “You have no idea how much I adore your spirit. You didn’t really expect the Akuma to be in my ring, did you?”

Marinette gaped up at him. “Where else could it be?” she whispered in shock. Her eyes trailed over the rest of his costume before settling back on his ice-cold eyes.

Chat placed a gloved hand on the left side of his chest. “Why, it’s right here, princess,” he purred, taking a step towards her.

The baton slipped from her grasp, clattering loudly against the pavement. “No,” she choked as tears began to slide down her cheeks. “It’s not possible. Akuma can’t go inside of people, they can only infect objects.”

Chat continued to prowl towards her, but Marinette was rooted to the spot by the dark revelation.

“There’s a lot about the Miraculous we don’t know,” he said, close enough to touch.

Marinette’s mind was spinning while her heart squeezed painfully in her chest. If the Akuma had truly taken control of Chat’s heart, there was only one way to free him. And, based on the remnants of the surrounding city, if she didn’t free him, he would surely destroy the world.

She had to get rid of his armor.

Chat closed the distance between them. “Don’t cry for me, princess. I’ve never felt so _fur-ee_.”

Without a word, she grasped his collar and brought his face to hers, pulling him into a heated kiss. He responded quickly, wrapping his hands around her waist and pressing his body flush against hers.

Marinette snaked her fingers through his silky blonde locks, pulling his mouth closer. She parted her lips slightly to allow his rough tongue access to her mouth. One of his elongated canines nipped her and the shock of pain quickly melded into the fire searing through her body from his touch.

Chat growled and Marinette allowed him to guide her to the ground so that he was lying on top of her. She tried not to wince as the road rubbed against the fresh scratch marks on her back.

As Chat started to grind into her, Marinette unzipped his jacket, exposing his muscular torso. His mouth left hers to bite and suck along her jawline and down her neck to her collarbone. With a small grunt, Chat used his claws to rip open her top for better access.

When his lips returned to hers, her right hand left his back and swept the nearby asphalt. In a matter of seconds, her fingers caught on a jagged piece of metal.

The shrapnel slid into Chat’s abdomen with surprising ease.

He didn’t notice the lethal injury at first. It wasn’t until Marinette tugged the makeshift weapon free that he sat back, clutching at the blood pouring from the wound.

“Well played, princess,” he winced. “I should’ve known not to underestimate you. Though I must say, you play _purr_ -ty dirty.”

Chat started to fall back but Marinette caught him by the lapel of his open jacket and maneuvered herself so that his head was resting in her lap. She let out a choked sob as a new wave of tears began to stream from her eyes.

“I’m so sorry, Chaton,” she whispered, pressing her forehead against his. “Please, tell me where the Ladybug Miraculous is so I can fix everything.” The thought of cutting Chat open to get to the Akuma made her stomach turn, but if it was the only way to end this nightmare, so be it.

Chat let out a weak laugh. “Look around, princess… I destroyed the earrings.”

Marinette went numb.

“And sorry about Adrien,” he continued, his words starting to slur slightly as the pool of blood beneath him continue to grow. “He died with Chat Noir.”

She attributed the non-sensical nature of this statement to the lack of oxygen reaching his brain.

“You should leave Paris,” Chat continued to ramble. “My kwami told me once that he was responsible for the extinction of the dinosaurs. The earth bounced back eventually, so maybe something else out there survived this time too.”

Marinette let out a bark of choked laughter, so much for saving the world. “What reason do I have for living anyway now that everyone I love is dead or dying?” she said wretchedly.

He managed to give her a weak smile. “I knew you still cared.”

“Stupid cat! Of course, I care!” Marinette blubbered. “What happened to you?”

“It doesn’t matter,” Chat muttered. “It’s not like you can go back and stop it from happening.”

“It matters to me!” she cried. “Why didn’t you call me?”

Chat’s breathing grew shallower.

“Can you... can you sing something for me?” he whispered, closing his eyes.

Singing was the last thing she felt like doing, but it was [the least she could do for her Chaton](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uXxTRnxmY-c). She began to stroke his head and hummed a few chords to warm up her ragged, tear-choked throat:

_Love of mine  
Someday you will die  
But I'll be close behind  
I'll follow you into the dark  
No blinding light  
Or tunnels to gates of white  
Just our hands clasped so tight  
Waiting for a hint of a spark_

_If heaven and hell decide  
That they both are satisfied  
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs  
If there's no one beside you when your soul embarks  
I'll follow you into the dark_

Marinette could barely see the rise and fall of Chat’s chest, but she couldn’t stop until he stopped.

_You and me  
Have seen everything to see  
From Bangkok to Calgary  
And the soles of your shoes  
Are all worn down  
The time for sleep is now  
It's nothing to cry about  
Cause we'll hold each other soon  
In the blackest of rooms_

_If heaven and hell decide  
That they both are satisfied  
Illuminate the no's on their vacancy signs  
If there's no one beside you  
When your soul embarks  
I'll follow you into the dark  
And I'll follow you into the dark_

Chat was gone.

The only thing that had kept Marinette going since she left the bathroom at Le Grand Paris was the knowledge that she’d be able to right the world as soon as she recovered her Miraculous and now that hope was also gone.

Her hollow eyes caught sight of the shrapnel she’d used to kill her partner.

_And I'll follow you into the dark._

!@#$%^&*())(*&^%$#@!

Rena Rouge and Carapace touched down on the roof top deck of Le Grand Paris and ducked behind the poolside hedges.

“What’s the plan, babe?” Carapace asked.

Rena rolled her eyes at him. “You can’t call me that when we look like this,” she chastised him.

His cheeks darkened. “Sorry,” he mumbled. “Hard habit to break.”

 _He’s too fucking adorable_ , she thought, fighting the urge to kiss him.

“We need to find the Akuma and trap him until Ladybug comes,” Rena said instead.

“Should we try calling her? I can’t believe she hasn’t gotten here yet…” he frowned.

_Oh, she’s here alright… but I’m guessing the Akuma caught her in civilian form._

Rena kept that tidbit to herself. She’d already revealed one too many identities tonight.

“I know you aren’t going to like this,” she began. “But I think we should split up.”

“No way, dude!” Carapace protested. “That's like, Horror Movie Rule Numero Uno.”

“This isn’t a horror movie,” Rena tried to reason with him. “It’s an Akuma attack. We’ll cover more ground if we search separately and I’ll only be a phone call away.”

“The Akuma is literally called The Boogeyman; we have crossed over into horror movie territory. Plus, he’s already taken down Chat Noir,” Carapace argued. “You think either one of _us_ could fend off the Akuma long enough for the other to arrive?”

Rena sighed. “No offence to Chat, but he doesn’t have a tactical mind. Don’t get me wrong, he’s an amazing teammate, but he tends to think with his heart instead of his brain unless Ladybug is helping to prod him along.”

Carapace frowned but couldn’t disagree; he and Chat were similar in that regard.

Rena flipped open the phone clipped to her belt and tapped the TVi News app.

“This is Nadja Chamack with TVi News, interrupting your scheduled programming to deliver a breaking bulletin about an ongoing Akuma attack at Le Grand Paris hotel!”

She shut the app. “Looks like there aren’t any new updates, so The Boogeyman must still be in the hotel. I’ll take the bottom floors, you start at the top, and we’ll meet in the middle.”

“Be safe!” he said, pulling her into a quick hug.

“You too, loverboy.” She gave him a wink before running to the edge of the building and beginning her descent, jumping stealthily from balcony to balcony down to the first floor.

When she entered the lobby, she found guests and hotel staff sprawled everywhere. Most were still breathing, but a fair number were obviously not.

Rena knew Marinette’s last location was a bathroom and most likely whatever woman’s room was closest to the ballroom where the reception was being held.

She darted silently up the grand staircase and followed the signs. The bathroom wasn’t too far down the hallway and Rena saw no sign of the Akuma on her trek. Her hunch had been correct, Marinette was crumpled just outside of the restroom, as though The Boogeyman had been lying in wait and struck as soon as it saw her arm starting to push open the door.

The sleeping girl was whimpering and curled into the fetal position. Rena could see that she was covered in minute scratches as though she’d been caught in a sandstorm. There were deeper looking claw marks gouged into her back, a large discolored bruise on one of her thighs, two puncture wounds on her neck, and a thin line of blood along her jawline.

Rena carefully turned Marinette onto her back and was struck by the misery clouding the girl’s features. She also noticed that there was an additional jagged cut in Marinette’s right palm that was bleeding profusely.

Her friend’s sobs grew louder, and Rena watched in horrified fascination as a fresh wound began to appear just above her left cubital fossa. She didn’t know what her friend had experienced in her nightmare, but Rena had the sinking feeling that it was about to come to an end by Marinette’s own hand.

“Please, Miss Ladybug kwami,” Rena whispered quickly. “I know who Marinette is. Help me wake her before it’s too late for her to transform!”

A second later, a small red kwami popped it’s head out from behind Marinette’s head. She’d left the safety of the clutch to try and soothe her slumbering charge

“Use your flute!” the little god said fervently, gesturing to the instrument strapped to Rena’s back. “Just imagine Marinette getting up as you start to play, and the tune will come out naturally.”

Rena brought the flute to her lips as the cut on Marinette’s arm deepened, exposing her brachial artery. Rena slammed her eyes shut and visualized Marinette waking as she blew into her woodwind.

A shrill trill sounded and, unbeknownst to the Fox wielder, a beam of orange light began to trickle out of the instrument and wrap its gentle glow around the sleeping girl. Before another stroke of the imaginary blade could sever her pulsing vessel, Marinette’s eyes slid open.

Rena could only stand the piercing note for a few seconds. Relief washed over her when she lowered the flute and opened her own eyes to see that her friend was awake. 

“Don’t worry,” the Ladybug kwami assured her. “Only you and Marinette could hear that note. The Akuma won’t be alerted to your presence.”

It took a few moments for Marinette to recognize her surroundings. When she did, she bolted upright, and Rena had to place a hand behind her back to keep her from passing out again.

“Shhhh,” the fox reassured. “It’s okay, Mari. It was all a nightmare created by an Akuma. You’re okay.”

But Marinette clearly wasn’t okay. She collapsed into the superhero’s embrace, wracking with sobs.

Rena rubbed the smaller girl’s back, feeling her own eyes grow moist. “I’m sorry, Mari. I got here as soon as I could. I didn’t mean to leave you alone for so long.”

Marinette took in a few rattling breaths and raised her head. She knew she had to pull herself together and transform despite the heaviness weighing on her chest.

Rena tore a strip of fabric from the bottom of Marinette’s gown and tied it around the near lethal cut on the girl’s left arm.

“Miraculous permitting, I promise to hold you for as long as you need once this Akuma is cleansed,” Rena said, hands on Marinette’s shoulders. “But we need Ladybug now.”

Marinette nodded, too overwhelmed to properly register the fact that Rena knew her identity.

“I’m going to try and find Chat,” Rena continued, getting to her feet. “According to TVi News he was spotted in the hotel but was tagged by the Akuma. I need to wake him lest his nightmare reveal some valuable information to Hawkmoth.”

Marinette stiffened at the mention of her partner, a flash of ice blue flaring across her mind’s eye. She shook off the faux memory and stood.

“I’ll c-catch up with you,” she managed to croak.

Rena nodded and embraced her friend one more time before dashing down the hallway to the ballroom. Based on the scatter pattern of the Akuma’s victims, she surmised that The Boogeyman’s initial target was the reception. It was highly likely Chat Noir had tried to head the villain off there.

 _I’d make a damn good detective_ , Rena thought as she entered the ballroom and saw Chat’s prone figure on the floor.

She heard an ominous beep as she rushed towards him.

Compared to Marinette, the black cat seemed largely unscathed, though he too was keening pitifully and had tear-stained cheeks. There was a large crack in the floor adjacent to his right hand and when Rena took a peek at his ring, she noticed he was down to one claw on the bright green paw print.

Not wanting to learn the identity of another teammate, Rena dragged Chat to the nearest table and unceremoniously shoved him beneath the cream-colored cloth. A moment later, there was a bright green flash of light.

A tiny black cat poked it’s head out from underneath the cloth and glared ruefully up at her.

“Well that was terrible,” it huffed.

“Is that your way of saying thank you?” Rena asked, brow raised.

“You should be the one thanking me for keeping the Cataclysm contained to that one spot on the floor,” the kwami scoffed. “If it weren’t for me, there’d be no hotel.”

Before Rena could answer, the cat withdrew, and she heard the rustle of the kwami pawing through his charge’s clothes.

“My dear sweet, camembert!” she heard the kwami sigh. “How I missed thee.”

Rena rolled her eyes and pulled out her flute. She hoped that visualizing Chat waking up would work on his civilian form. She closed her eyes and blew the same shrill note as before. A few moments later, she heard the thud of a head slamming into the underside of the table.

“Yowch,” the fox sympathized. “Sorry, Chat Noir! You were about to detransform so I shoved you under the table. This is Rena by the way. Please don’t come out until you’ve changed back, I really don’t want to know who you are yet,” she explained quickly.

“Did you happen to see a girl in a red and gold Chinese-style gown on the way in here?” he asked, panic evident in his voice.

 _So much for protecting his identity_ , Rena sighed.

“Of course, you’re Adrien fucking Agreste,” she said aloud, smacking her palm to her forehead.

There was another bang as the startled blonde hit the underside of the table.

“Oops,” he muttered.

“Indeed,” Rena concurred. _At least I can resume shipping my OTP now._

“Well,” she continued, “Now that the chat’s out of the bag, just hurry up and fuel your kwami so you can help us stop The Boogeyman. Marinette is fine by the way, so don’t go looking for her. I’m going to find Ladybug and Carapace; join us when you’re ready.”

Without further ado, she was off. 

Rena was starting to feel mildly concerned that Carapace hadn’t called her yet, when she saw The Boogeyman in the lobby, striding towards the bottom of the grand staircase with his head bent.

“How can this be…” his voice floated up to her. “My favorite little pet has alluded me…”

Rena saw a flash of pink light in her peripheral vision; Marinette must have finally transformed. Luckily, the Akuma was too distracted to notice the superheroes waiting on the floor above.

The fox unclipped her phone and shot Carapace a text that read: _Ballroom. Now._

Before The Boogeyman reached the first stair, Rena whipped out her flute and whispered, “Mirage!” as she brought it to her lips.

At the first note, the bottom two floors of Le Grand Paris filled with copies of Rena Rouge. The Akuma paused at the appearance of so many new targets and the real Rena ducked back into the ballroom. Carapace and Chat Noir soon joined her, while The Boogeyman flailed about in the lobby below.

“Nice job, ba… Rena,” Carapace said, giving her an awkward pat on the back.

She shot him a pointed look.

“Yeah,” Chat added, avoiding her gaze. “Thanks for the save.”

When Ladybug stepped into the ballroom a second later, she immediately flung herself at Chat Noir. He caught her in a tight embrace, looking quizzically over her shoulder at Rena.

Rena shrugged. She suspected it had something to do with Marinette’s nightmare but wasn’t about to disclose as much.

As suddenly as she had accosted him, Ladybug released Chat and tried to assume her normal air of detached companionability. The effect was ruined by the frequency with which her eyes continued to flicker towards Chat.

Rena’s necklace beeped, snapping everyone back to their precarious circumstances.

“Good news,” Rena began. “I can wake victims up. Bad news: I only have 4 minutes before I need to slink off to charge my kwami.”

“We should only need three,” Ladybug said in a tone that sent a chill through her teammates.

“Y-you okay, LB?” Carapace asked tentatively.

Ladybug took a deep breath in. She had to get a handle on her emotions. If she continued to let on that Ladybug had fallen prey to The Boogeyman it would be a clue to her identity.

“Perfectly fine,” she waved off her comrade’s concern. “This Akuma is one of the worst Hawkmoth has ever created and I just want him eliminated as soon as possible.”

“Eliminated?” Rena raised an eyebrow at her.

Ladybug tried to conceal the hatred in her voice. “I want the Akumatized persona eliminated,” she backtracked. “So we can free the… victim and purify the Akuma.”

It took a lot of effort not to spit out the word “victim.”

Rena’s necklace beeped again.

“You guys are wasting time with your questions and semantics!” Ladybug said forcefully. “Lucky Charm!”

As she hoped it would, the Miraculous gave her a straightforward solution: a bottle of Sevoflurane, an inhalational anesthetic.

“Carapace,” Ladybug said. “I hope you’ve been practicing. I’m going to shatter this at The Boogeyman’s feet and you’re going to trap him. This stuff has a fast onset, which means the offset will also be fairly quick, so, Chat, as soon as the dome disappears, you are going to Cataclysm the hell out of his cloak.”

No one bothered to ask how she knew where the Akuma would be. And Carapace definitely didn’t dare tell her that he was not at all confident he’d be able to cast his shield as an offensive weapon. Rena’s necklace and Ladybug’s earrings beeped in unison.

The Miraculous wielders crept out of the ballroom and up to the banister looking down on the lobby. The Boogeyman was still gliding about trying to catch the true Rena.

Ladybug nodded at said teammate, and the fox grabbed her flute and played a single sharp note that caused all the remaining mirages to blink out of existence simultaneously.

The Boogeyman whirled around in confusion, stopping with his back to the waiting heroes. As soon as he stilled, Ladybug launched the Sevoflurane at the lobby floor beneath him. Before the others could intervene, Carapace climbed up on the banister and trailed after the bottle with a powerful leap, calling out “Shell-ter” as he fell.

The Boogeyman reared back as the bottle smashed but his retreat was halted by the green dome that had come down around him, the broken glass, and Carapace.

The Akuma was knocked out in seconds, and Carapace soon followed; his Miraculous armor unable to shield him from the effects of the volatile liquid.

Chat, Ladybug, and Rena hurried down to the edge of the dome.

“Cataclysm!” Chat called once he saw the dome begin to dissipate.

As soon as there was space for him to slide through, he darted to the sleeping Akuma and touched his hand to the, somehow, still wavering cloak.

The cloak dissolved fully into smoke at his touch and released a dark purple butterfly.

Ladybug’s yo-yo shot out and soon a white butterfly emerged in its predecessor’s place as The Boogeyman was revealed to be a middle-aged man in a plain white t-shirt and dark jeans; face veiled in darkness from the way he was sprawled on the floor.

Rena ran to help Carapace, who was struggling to sit up as he recovered from the anesthetic, while Ladybug carefully swept up the remnants of her lucky charm and threw the glass shards into the air, calling for her swarm to end this ordeal once and for all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope y'all enjoyed this chapter. This is as dark as it will get during the story. Comfort and smut to come next Sunday (January 12) in The Competition.
> 
> EDIT 1/22/20: Sorry guys! Took a little hiatus, will post the next chapter this Sunday (1/26/20) and try to make-up with a twofer post later


	7. The Competition

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the unexpected weeklong hiatus! Should be back on track from here on out. I will attempt to post a double header in a few weeks to make up for the break.
> 
> Also, apologies ahead of time for my limited experience writing sex scenes...

When Adrien saw Marinette sitting in the lobby talking to a police officer, he flew down the grand staircase and pulled her up and into a bone-crushing hug. The uniformed woman quickly made herself scarce.

“I thought I lost you,” he murmured into her hair.

“Me too,” her muffled voice came from his chest.

He leaned back enough to examine her face. “In my nightmare… I couldn’t save you,” he said, thumb gently caressing her cheek.

Fresh tears gathered in the corners of her eyes. “In mine… I… I couldn’t save anyone,” she whispered.

He drew her into another embrace and rubbed reassuring circles into her back, a few tears now spilling down his own cheeks.

They stood clutching each other for several long moments before Adrien became distinctly aware of their exposed position. He knew it wouldn’t be long until the police barricade was removed, and the press was allowed to flood Le Grand Paris.

“Let’s go home,” he said, giving her another squeeze before taking a small step back. He kept hold of her right hand as he tugged his phone out of his pocket to coordinate a pick-up location with G. He didn’t let go of her until they were safely inside the apartment and even then, it was only for the time it took for them to get changed into sleepwear.

Despite waking up tangled together, they’d never fallen asleep that way. It was a night for exceptions.

They lay awake, holding each other for hours trying to soothe away The Boogeyman’s fearscapes. Eventually they both surrendered to a thankfully dreamless sleep, curled in each other’s arms.

!@#$%^&*())(*&^%$#@!

Over the course of the next week it came to light that The Boogeyman was a convicted serial killer who had escaped police custody after his sentencing hearing. Prior to his arrest, he’d been planning the murder of Renée Delacourt, the lead actress in Audrey Bourgeois’s latest film. He’d snuck into Le Grand Paris only to find his quarry would not be in attendance at the reception and flown into a rage sufficient for Hawkmoth to target with his Akuma. After being returned to the police, said felon was quickly transferred to a prison in South America to circumvent possible re-akumatization.

Mayor Beauréal announced an expansion in the psychological services that would be covered under the national healthcare plan in the wake of The Boogeyman’s attack. It wasn’t uncommon for the suicide rate to spike after attacks by Akuma that wreaked havoc by psychological rather than physical means and, since those deaths were irreversible, the government was making a prevention attempt.

Sadly, the increased psychological services did little to curb the uptick in Akuma attacks that took place over the next week. Everyone who’d fallen under The Boogeyman’s curse was experiencing some level of post-traumatic stress disorder, and a few victims fell prey to their continued nightmares. Queen Bee was more vindictive than usual for the first few battles until Carapace snapped at her to chill out. The loss of his usual calm demeanor was enough to shock her out of her temper.

Unfortunately, Marinette couldn’t really talk to anyone about her experience without giving away her secret identity. Rena hadn’t been able to stay for long once The Boogeyman was purified, although she made a point of fiercely embracing Ladybug at the end of all subsequent Akuma attacks. Alya had also insisted on treating Marinette to breakfast at Brina’s every day. Marinette was extremely grateful for the affection but wished she could have a frank conversation with her best friend.

The thought of becoming Hawkmoth’s next weapon kept Marinette awake most nights. Every time she closed her eyes she was haunted by electric blue and the feel of her partner’s warm blood spilling over her hands. She suspected that the main reason she hadn’t succumbed to negative emotions was Adrien. 

During the day, Marinette occupied her mind with work. She’d stopped accepting new catering gigs in order to devote time to renovating her new boutique, and she had enlisted a few current ESMOD students looking to make a few bucks to help her produce the first wave of inventory.

She spent most evenings with Adrien, who seemed to have made it his mission to keep her from stewing inside her own mind by inviting friends over for dinner; accepting music requests while he practiced piano; and purchasing the Jagged Stone edition of Rock Band for roomie rock out sessions which were surprisingly therapeutic.

The day after the attack, he’d told her a few more details about his nightmare while they lay in bed together. The fact that losing her was seemingly his greatest fear both thrilled and terrified her.

When she failed to grant him the same disclosure regarding her encounter with The Boogeyman, he didn’t push her save for one night, a few weeks later, when he asked in a hesitant whisper, “Are you… afraid of Chat Noir?”

She stiffened in his arms and he immediately began to backtrack.

“Sorry,” he said. “It’s just that… I overheard The Boogeyman talking to himself… but maybe I misunderstood. He could’ve been talking about someone else.”

Marinette relaxed back into his arms. She was glad it was dark and that her back was to Adrien; confessions were easier when you didn’t have to look the other person in the eye.

“Not exactly…” she said. The idea of outright lying to Adrien causing her a negative visceral reaction.

“I’m afraid of losing everyone I love, and The Boogeyman used Chat Noir as a vehicle for making that happen,” she continued.

“But why Chat Noir?” Adrien couldn’t stop the question from slipping out. “He could’ve shown you a nuclear meltdown or a tsunami or any number of other mass fatality incidents…”

Marinette was silent for several seconds as she considered her response.

“I think it’s because I admire Chat Noir,” she finally whispered. “It made everything so much worse…”

“Can you tell me what happened?” Adrien asked quietly, when it didn’t seem as though she would continue.

Marinette pressed herself closer to him. “Somehow, Chat got Akumatized and he… he completely lost control. I don’t know how far the damage spread, but Paris was ruined and there was no one left alive.”

Adrien’s grip around her waist tightened.

“And for some reason, Chat singled me out,” she continued shakily. “He’d deliberately tortured and killed my parents and friends and said that I could still save you if I agreed to play a game. I thought if I indulged him, I could find a way to free him from the Akuma, and we could locate Ladybug’s earrings and fix everything…”

“But he’d destroyed them,” Adrien finished for her.

She nodded.

“Did he…” Adrien started to ask but couldn’t bear to speak the words.

She shook her head. “He gave me a few scratches but… I got him to let his guard down and I…” Marinette choked. “I killed him.”

Adrien rolled Marinette over and pulled her into his chest as she began wracking with sobs.

“It’s ok, Marinette,” he said soothingly. “You didn’t have a choice. I’m sure it’s what Chat would have wanted.” 

Marinette hadn’t allowed herself to breakdown since the attack. It had seemed too dangerous to indulge in her grief alone considering how she’d almost succumbed at the end of her fearscape. She felt safe in Adrien’s arms. With him, she could acknowledge her pain without getting swept away by it.

When Marinette could speak again, she whispered out her final fright. “After I killed Chat, I was overcome with the realization that I had nothing left to live for… and I… I was in the process of killing myself when Rena woke me up.”

Adrien stiffened and Marinette feared she’d revealed too much.

“I wish France still had the death penalty,” he finally whispered; the words coming out in a low growl. Marinette felt a chill run up her spine at his sudden, unexpected anger.

“It was just a nightmare,” she said soothingly. “I’ll be okay.”

She felt him take a deep breath. “Thank you for telling me what happened,” he said in a much calmer tone. “Anything you need, I’m here for you.”

Marinette laughed. “You’ve already done plenty… I’m really glad I met you, Mister Graham de Vanily.”

He gave her a squeeze. “Me too, Miss Dupain-Cheng.”

!@#$%^&*())(*&^%$#@!

A few days later, Adrien came home from work with an announcement.

“I know it’s short notice, but my father wants to host another dinner here on Friday night, and he would like you to cater.”

Marinette put down the garment she was working on and looked up at him flabbergasted.

“I know you don’t do catering anymore,” Adrien said apologetically. “But he’s insistent and promised to pay twice your normal rate.”

“But… your father has the money to hire a five-star chef,” she spluttered.

“I was also confused by his request,” he said. “I suspect he has some ulterior motive…”

Marinette gulped. “Like what?”

Adrien shook his head. “No idea… he wouldn’t give me any details save that he would be sending a suit over for me to wear and that he wants the menu to feature an upscale version of [traditional Chinese cuisine](https://travelfreak.com/traditional-chinese-food/).”

Adrien looked up at her sheepishly. “I may have raved to him about your mom’s cooking.”

Marinette ran her fingers through her hair and sighed.

“Okay,” she nodded, looking down at the pile of fabric that lay around her.

“You sure?” Adrien attempted to give her an out.

“Budding fashion designers don’t say, ‘No’ to requests from Gabriel Agreste,” Marinette smirked up at him.

He let out a mirthless chuckle. “Neither do his estranged sons.”

!@#$%^&*())(*&^%$#@!

Friday night was upon Marinette faster than she could second guess her decision. She’d consulted with her maman and jiù jiu via a three-way call to develop a five-course dinner that she was actually excited to cook.

After returning home early from Agreste Fashion, Adrien decided he was too on edge to attend his regular fencing class and opted to help her prep instead. They spent an enjoyable few hours shaping mini jiǎo zi (dumplings) and battering shrimp for fèngwěi xiāpái (phoenix tail shrimp) appetizers; salivating over the smell of the burbling yáng ròu pào mó (mutton stew) and Běijīng kǎoyā (Peking duck), which had been roasting in a special outdoor oven on the balcony courtesy of Madame Dupain-Cheng since Thursday; chopping veggies for liáng cài (cold vegetable dish); and making bō cài miàn from scratch (spinach noodles).

Around 1800, they dragged themselves away from the kitchen to change: Marinette into her regular black and white catering attire and Adrien into the [all grey ensemble](https://i.pinimg.com/736x/5b/d3/f3/5bd3f3372af8d32e10ee90c3940bea29--mens-suit-vest-plaid-suit.jpg) Gabriel had sent for the occasion. Marinette tutted when Adrien emerged from the master bedroom and deftly swapped his tie for one with [green paisley embroidery](https://cdn.shopify.com/s/files/1/0681/8743/products/X.green_and_silver_paisley_tie_2048x2048.jpg?v=1493850927) that brought out his eyes.

“Can’t wait to see my father’s face when he sees this little alteration,” he smiled at her as she finished tightening the knot.

She looked up to stick her tongue out at him and blushed when she realized how close his lips were.

The doorbell rang and the pair jumped apart.

“Showtime,” Adrien said, holding a fist out to her.

“We got this this,” Marinette winked as she bumped it with her own.

As Adrien put on a record of standard piano classics, she took one last sweep around the living room to make sure the appetizers and [Huangjiu](http://www.spoonhunt.com/blog/12-kinds-of-chinese-alcohol-and) (yellow wine) looked professionally set out before disappearing into the kitchen.

She heard the front door open and the murmur of introductions before she turned her focus to the rest of the dinner preparations. Tikki had taken to hiding out of sight in the guest bedroom since Marinette moved in. Marinette mostly used the room for storage at this point and thought she heard Tikki whispering quietly to herself whenever she walked in to grab supplies or change clothes.

As before, the dinner service went smoothly.

Marinette called upon every ounce of grace she possessed as she carried the first course -- piping hot bowls of yáng ròu pào mó -- into the dining room. She was so focused on not spilling hot stew into anyone’s lap that it wasn’t until the second, liáng cài, course that she took note of the other guests.

Once again, Gabriel and Adrien were seated at opposite ends of the table. The remaining guests were all women around Marinette’s age, including one of the attendees from the previous dinner, a young Japanese woman with freckles, sharp yellow-brown eyes, and short dark blue hair cut into a neat bob; Chloé Bourgeois, looking formidable in another of Marinette’s altered designs: [a slim cut yellow suit and tailored black shirt](https://ae01.alicdn.com/kf/HTB1wtFAiL2H8KJjy0Fcq6yDlFXaf/Office-Uniform-Designs-Pant-Suits-Female-Blazer-Pants-Womens-Office-Wear-Trouser-Suit-for-Women-Pantsuit.jpg); and none other than Lila Rossi, Marinette’s more despicable nemesis from grade school.

When Lila’s olive-green eyes met Marinette’s, she gave her a mocking wink. For a half second, Marinette considered tipping the plate of marinated vegetables into her lap. She re-considered after calculating how much the dry-cleaning bill would be for the Armani pants alone.

Marinette recognized the final guest as Mayor Aurore Beauréal, whose bright blue eyes kept flitting coquettishly towards Adrien.

With a sudden shock, Marinette realized that the attendees were a veritable who’s who of rich and accomplished bachelorettes.

Her gaze flicked towards Adrien and she was relieved to see how uncomfortable he was. When she bent to refill his wine, he whispered a soft plea, “Help me.”

She chuckled softly and gave his shoulder a discreet squeeze of encouragement. “Just a few hours and we can rock out to any song of your choosing,” she whispered back.

He rolled his eyes at her but seemed to relax nonetheless.

Marinette fought hard not to eavesdrop as she made the rounds with the final three courses - bō cài miàn, Běijīng kǎoyā, and finally, [steamed egg pudding](http://www.huangkitchen.com/steamed-egg-pudding/). Once dessert was on the table, she cleared the appetizers from the living room and set out the tea and coffee service. Her role done for the evening, she fixed herself a plate with a little serving of each dish and helped herself to a glass of wine. She’d never indulge in such a way on a normal gig, but this wasn’t a normal gig.

She still hadn’t pieced together why Gabriel insisted she cater this little soiree, but she lived here and felt entitled to the fruits of her and Adrien’s labor.

Marinette had finished her meal by the time she heard the party adjourn to the living room and she began the laborious process of clean-up. Thirty minutes or so had passed when Nathalie Sancoeur pushed her way through the double doors into the kitchen.

Marinette nearly dropped the soap-covered bowl she was holding. “I’m sorry, Madame Sancoeur! I didn’t realize you were here, otherwise I would have made up a plate for you.”

Nathalie waved her off. “I just arrived. I’m only here to make sure Monsieur Agreste gets home safely at the end of the night.”

Marinette raised an eyebrow at her. “Then… can I help you with something?”

Nathalie gave a swift nod. “Madame Rossi requires your assistance. It seems the lid on the tea pot was not secured correctly.” Nathalie shot Marinette an accusatory look.

“Madame Rossi needs a cold compress and there’s a rather large puddle of scalding tea on the floor.” Without another word, Nathalie turned her back on Marinette and returned to the living room.

“Once a manipulative liar, always a manipulative liar,” Marinette muttered under her breath as she wrapped an ice pack in a dish towel and grabbed a larger towel to mop up Lila’s mess.

Her temper flared when she stepped into the living room to find Lila dramatically clutching her wrist and leaning into Adrien’s arms.

Marinette thrust the ice pack at the actress and shook her head slightly at Adrien who moved to take the bigger towel from her.

“I got this,” she mouthed at him over Lila’s bent head before she kneeled down to wipe up the spilled tea, leaving Adrien to awkwardly pat Lila’s shoulder in an attempt to console the sniffling woman.

Marinette was pleasantly surprised when she caught Chloé’s eye and the blonde gave her a look that clearly said, _Can you believe Lila is still up to this same shit?_

Marinette chuckled under her breath; happy to have found another ally in this injustice.

“How’s your hand Madame Rossi?” Gabriel inquired from his seat on the couch. Nathalie was standing at attention behind him.

“I don't think there will be any permanent damage,” Lila replied, flinching as she pressed the ice pack to the “injury.”

She turned towards Marinette who had nearly finished cleaning up the tea.

“Don’t beat yourself up too much, Marinette,” Lila said magnanimously. “Something was bound to slip your notice with so many courses to prepare.”

Marinette, who had steeled herself for such a comment, continued her work without pause or rebuke. 

Gabriel sighed. “You are too forgiving, Madame Rossi. I should have known something like this would happen. Based on what I’ve seen of her clothing designs, Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng does not have an eye for details.”

Unlike Lila’s veiled critique, Gabriel’s words caused Marinette to stiffen momentarily.

“I had such high hopes for her, but it seems she has lost her touch since winning my hat-making competition,” he continued nonchalantly. “The cheongsam-style evening gown she made for the premiere looked pristine from a distance, but up close lacked the precision I demand from my designers.”

An air of tension filled the room. If not for the quiet scratch of the record player, an ominous hush would have fallen over the occupants.

“Father…” Adrien began coldly.

Gabriel raised a hand to silence him. “I have let you carry on whatever this is with Mademoiselle Dupain-Cheng for too long. Tonight just emphasizes the fact that she possesses the type of carelessness that leaves the Agreste name open to scandal.

“I understand your wayward behavior is a means of rebellion for my absenteeism while you were growing up, but I hope tonight has given you a glimpse of the social opportunities you are wasting by canoodling with this middle-class tart.”

“Father!” Adrien cried as Marinette dropped the towel she was using in shock. Her face flushed in embarrassment.

Not only had her biggest fashion idol harangued her character, but he’d done it in front of Adrien and a room full of her potential competition for his affection.

Marinette stood quickly, feeling all eyes upon her, and dashed into the kitchen before anyone could see her break.

As soon as the door swung shut behind her, she heard angry shouting burst out from the living room. She took several deep breaths and willed the tears threatening to spill to return to her lacrimal ducts. She needed a distraction.

Marinette slowly walked back over to the sink and focused on the warm water and frothy bubbles that landed on the backs of her hands as she resumed washing the dishes.

She was so focused that she didn’t notice that the shouting had trailed off and the front door had been slammed shut.

Shortly after the sound of the door reverberating in its frame stopped, Adrien walked up behind her and gently took the plate she was currently rinsing from her grasp. He set it back down in the sink and turned off the faucet before wrapping her in his arms.

“I’m so sorry, Mari,” he whispered against her hair. “I had no idea what my father was planning. If I had known, I never would have asked you to be here tonight.”

She turned into his chest and buried her face in his shirt. His arms instantly tightened around her.

“If it makes you feel any better,” he continued. “Chloé stood up for you.”

“She did not!” Marinette’s muffled voice vibrated against his chest.

“She did!” Adrien said with a snort of laughter at the memory. “She made the offhand comment that he’d admired her dress at the premiere, and you had also designed it, so he must be lying to one of you. Apparently, he bumped into the Bourgeois Family on his way out of the reception.”

“No!” Marinette gasped, wrenching her face up to look at him.

Adrien nodded enthusiastically, “Yes! And then she said that she thought it was time I showed everyone out and I did.”

“And here I thought she hated me,” Marinette said smiling at the thought of Chloé Bourgeois turning her ire on Gabriel Agreste.

“I know I’m in for it later, but for now, I will just revel in the memory of my father’s expression as Chloé tore into him,” he smiled.

Marinette suddenly realized what a compromising position they were in.

“I should go,” she said abruptly, pulling out of his arms.

“Mari...”

“No, Adrien,” she said, fleeing into the living room. “Your dad made it perfectly clear tonight that he doesn’t want me anywhere near you and I don’t want to cause even more strain in your relationship.” She darted into the guest room to grab her purse, which Tikki had already wedged herself into, before moving towards the front door.

Adrien, who had followed her, looked dumbfounded. “One, you live here. And two, that’s what you’re thinking about right now?! Saving my relationship with my father?”

Marinette wrenched the coat closet open and tugged her jacket free. “What else should I be thinking about?” she said flatly, avoiding his gaze as she turned towards the front door. “I’ll just crash at Alya and Nino’s tonight and come back for the rest of my stuff in the morning. I can think up a more long-term housing solution tomorrow, when I can actually reason.”

“Marinette, stop!” Adrien cried, striding forward. He reached her before she could get the door more than a few centimeters open and pinned it closed with one hand.

“I couldn’t care less who my father thinks I should spend my time with,” he said gently, grabbing her chin and forcing her to meet his eyes.

It wasn’t clear who moved first, but the next second their lips met in a frenzied kiss. Marinette heard the distant thud of her jacket and purse hitting the floor.

She twined her fingers through his silky locks, pulling his mouth closer as his hands wrapped around her waist. He guided her back a few steps until she was pressed up against the nearby wall, her shirt coming untucked in the process.

His lips trailed down her neck, setting her skin ablaze as he started to unbutton her shirt. When he reached collarbone, he gave her a gentle nip, drawing a low moan from her mouth.

Marinette pulled his face back up to hers, gasping as she felt his erection grind lightly against her lower abdomen. She tugged off his vest and tie before unbuttoning and removing his shirt as quickly as she could manage, pushing thoughts of a certain white cat to the darkest reaches of her mind. She tentatively ran her hands over his bare torso, humming in appreciation at what she felt.

Adrien lifted her up and she instinctively wrapped her legs around his waist. He ground against her more insistently, eliciting further euphoric noises with the better alignment.

Even though she’d spent weeks imagining how it would feel to be pinned up against a wall by Adrien, Marinette was utterly unprepared for the sensations flooding her body. It had been so long since she’d been touched by anyone other than herself. Her tactile senses were nearly overwhelmed with every brush of fingertips against the exposed skin at her hip and pulse of his erection against her core.

Without so much as a grunt of effort, Adrien turned away from the wall and carried her towards the master suite. He gently eased her onto the bed and ran his hands up her sides as he climbed on top of her, setting all of her nerve endings ablaze. After a few moments, she flipped him over and sucked on the base of his neck as she ground slowly down onto him, provoking a groan of pleasure from his lips.

Marinette raised her torso and peeled the rest of her shirt off and Adrien helped her get out of her bra. They both hummed happily when she leaned back over him, her sensitive nipples brushing against his exposed pecs.

Marinette slid backwards off of him and stood. He pulled himself up into a sitting position on the edge of the bed as she situated herself between his thighs. Their lips met again, and each began to unbutton the other’s slacks. His fingers were more nimble, and he was pushing down on her waistband before she’d even gotten his zipper undone. As she kicked free of her pants, he slid his own the rest of the way off, and she sat on top of him, knees supported by the bed and gasping at the hardness and heat that blossomed between her thighs.

She pulled back for a moment, “I have an IUD and no STIs.”

Adrien looked at her puzzled. The sight of his kiss-bruised mouth made her flush darken. “I have no STIs and am incapable of getting pregnant?” he replied.

“That was my way of saying that I don’t have any condoms, but I’d be willing to forsake them if you trust me,” she said, grinding down unconsciously against him.

He groaned in response and his grip on her waist tightened. He tried to hold her still so he could consider her offer with a clear mind.

“I trust you,” he said finally. “But feel that I should mention that I have unexpired condoms in the nightstand if you want me to put one on,” he said nuzzling her neck.

“Not particularly,” she said, grinding against him on purpose this time, for emphasis.

“Fuck me,” Adrien moaned.

“I’m trying,” Marinette whispered into his ear with a smile.

He growled and stood briefly in order to flip her onto her back. He tugged down her underwear and quickly removed his own as Marinette shuffled closer to the headboard. He crawled after her, pinning her down on the pillows.

Adrien kissed his way down her body, pausing to lightly suck on her taut right nipple as he made his way to her mons pubis. He hooked his arms around her thighs and slowly slid his tongue up the length of her slit, sending a wave of pleasure through her.

Marinette gasped and impulsively grabbed a fistful of his hair when his tongue swirled delicately around her clit. As he began to lap and suck at the tiny bundle of nerves, she started to feel the rhythmic clenching of a building orgasm. Her back arched and she gently scratched her fingers against his scalp to let him know he was hitting all the right spots.

Adrien slipped a finger inside her and a flash of color swam across her vision as she almost came from the additional contact. He paused his hand, allowing Marinette a few moments to fall back from the precipice. She whined in protest and tried to lift her hips to increase the pressure, but he used his leverage to hold her lower body down.

“Please, Adrien,” Marinette whined, pushing futilely against him.

He obliged and slid in a second digit, before starting to pump his hand back and forth, long fingers driving in and out of her. Marinette’s breath started to come in shorter and shorter pants, the interspersed moans becoming longer and louder.

“Oh fuck,” she gasped, the clenching and warmth within reaching a crescendo. “Fuck, fuck, Adrien…”

Her eyelids fluttered closed and stars exploded in the darkness as everything in her peaked and waves of pleasure began to rock her body. Adrien continued his ministrations, riding out her orgasm with the continued rhythmic movements of his hand and tongue. When she’d had enough, she pushed him away, writhing with aftershocks.

Adrien wiped his glistening chin on the sheets and kissed his way back up her body. He caught her mouth with his and ground automatically against her mons. Her overly sensitive clit rang out at the distant pressure and her hips lifted instinctively.

Marinette flipped him onto his back and moved against him. She bit his shoulder as she guided him to her opening and slid down on him in a single swift movement that drew moans from both their lips. Eventually, she began to move, thrusting slowly back and forth on top of him. Adrien gripped her hips with both hands, helping to guide the speed and depth of her movements.

He hissed suddenly as the heat in his own abdomen grew to near bursting. As touch-starved as he was, he couldn’t hold on for long but desperately wanted to push her to the edge again before he came.

Adrien wedged his right hand between their bodies and rubbed Marinette’s clit with his thumb in firm, rhythmic circles. Primed from her first orgasm, it wasn't long until she was back near her peak.

“Please, come for me again, Marinette,” Adrien groaned.

He saw her eyes flutter closed at the plea and the next moment felt her walls clamp down on him. The increased pressure was enough to make him lose control and they cried out together, climaxing simultaneously. Marinette continued to rock against Adrien until her muscles gave out and she collapsed on top of him, both of them panting and sweating as if they’d just been on the run from an Akuma.

When their hearts had stopped racing, Adrien slid himself out and rolled Marinette onto her side. He cuddled up behind her, pulling her naked body flush against his own, and nuzzled his face into her neck. 

“I died,” Marinette said when her breathing finally steadied and she found the strength to speak.

“Noooooooo,” Adrien lamented, the warmth of his breath sending chills down her spine.

“Yup,” she said, wriggling closer to him. “I was right the first time I came over here. You killed me.”

“But I love you,” he keened dramatically. “Come back to me!”

She froze and turned around in his arms.

“Do you mean that?” she asked quietly, bringing a hand up to cup his cheek.

Adrien grabbed the hand with his own and brought it to his lips.

“I do,” he murmured.

Marinette bit her lip. Being with Adrien felt so right but she couldn’t help the brief throb that pulsed in her chest as Chat Noir flitted across her mind. She mentally chastised her fickle heart. Her partner had moved on and there was no use perseverating on that missed connection. Finally, she whispered, “I love you too.”

He kissed her tenderly before playfully pushing her back into the position of little spoon.

“Great!” he exclaimed. “’Cause this is where you live now,” he continued, crushing her closer to his chest.

Marinette laughed and relaxed into his arms. There was nowhere else she’d rather be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for all your lovely comments and kudos this far! I hope I continued to earn your readership with this chapter :)
> 
> Next up: The Sparring Session!
> 
> 20 March 2020: I am very sorry about the delay in updates! A lot has been going on in my life and unfortunately my motivation to write has fallen by the wayside. Given the current pandemic, I have been ordered to shelter-in-place and hope that working from home gives me more impetus to finish the last few chapters of this fic (about a third of which I already have written). Hope all of you are staying safe and health - both mentally and physically!


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